Self-Care, Shmelf-Care

What a marketing term, “self-care.”

So many industries have really latched onto these words so that they can sell you what you “need” in order to “treat” yourself. Because you’ve “earned” it. Or better yet, you’re approaching burn-out and you’re nearly at your limit of giving and going and doing.

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You, First

How are we really going to heal the world? Sincere insight and sharing what I think.

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Fear in Love's Clothing: my letter to the women pedalling their religion at me

To the Women with the Bibles and the Pamphlets on my porch this morning;

I answered the door looking for a fight.  

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Oh, Cupcake(less)

I went to the grocery store tonight.  I dragged my exhausted, nauseated body, along with the underwear-less body of my two-and-a-half-year old.  Because, you know, Mama's love is like gravity to a toddler, doesn't matter how Mama is feeling.

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Social Responsibility

I’m going to come up with a name for my new experiment of meditating 2 hours per day.

Journey Inward? Meeting myself? Hmmm…

In any case, today’s meditation was so incredibly enlightening.

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Your Only Job is to Show Up

We really complicate life.  Like, Sweet Jesus, do we ever.

We complicate it with expectations- of ourselves, of others, of how we think something should unfold or the way it should go.  And when the expectations aren't met, we're convinced that life is shit and we'e bad and unworthy of unhappiness.

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Safe in the Pain

My on-going journey of meditating for two hours a day continues to astound me.  We're talking daily insights, a feeling of clarity and expansiveness, and being embodied in a way I don't ever recall being before.

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Fixing It

One of the most obvious ways my woundings show up for me is in my relationship with my children.  Which isn't to say that we have a terrible connection.  It's to say that I feel a gap between what I know to be true, and how I behave with them.

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Expectations and Broken Hearts

I was gifted a powerful discovery in meditation that involves expectation and its purpose.

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Godmothers and Tapestries

Once upon a time, there was a girl who didn't know how to tap dance.  But she strapped some shoes on her feet, jumped on the coffee table in front of the living room window, and did in anyways.  In her mind, she was fabulous.  And that was all that mattered.

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