It’s True. You’re Human.

Shadow 28 by Catherine Mellinger

It’s true. You’re human. 

The way your mind won’t shut up when you close your eyes to meditate and breathe.  There’s nothing wrong.  You’re just human. It happens to Pema Chodron, Oprah and Deepak Chopra all the time.

The way you eat too much, not because you’re hungry, but because you’re sad, or lonely, or angry, or because you just really, really, really want another human being to give you a hug that lasts longer than 30 seconds. 

The way you obsess about the smallest details, like the shoes you’re wearing to your best friend’s grandfather’s funeral. Nobody cares about your shoes, but it’s uncomfortable to think about being at a funeral so it’s easier to feel stupid for wearing the “wrong” shoes.

The way your heart breaks every time you see a baby or a teeny tiny puppy with a pink vest on, because you want to have a small thing to care for.  A new fresh small thing that needs you more than anything else in the world.

It’s true.  You’re human.

My father courted my mother with a story about a lonely hippopotamus.  (Among other things - recorders, hundreds of letters and a yellow VW bug included.)

In his story, read at the University of Saskatchewan’s Arts and Letters club, a lonely hippo sits on the side of a lake, always alone.  Every day the hippo watches a group of animals across the bay whopping it up and having a grand old time, always together. 

One day the lonely hippo gathers all his courage and sets out on a journey to join the other animals.  He has a terrible time making his way through the swamp and tangled vines in the forest.  By the time he arrives on the other side, all the animals are gone and our dear hippo despite all his efforts is still alone. 

So, the lonely hippo turns around and heads back the way he came.  This time the swamp and vines seem to help rather than hinder his journey through the forest and back to his side of the lake, where he settles back into the familiar mud of loneliness.

We all feel like that lonely hippo at some point.  Alone, separate, watching all the other animals partying it up on the opposite side of the lake without us while we wallow in the mud.  

Outsider.  Alien.  Other. 

Human.

Is there anyone who loved high school?  Is there anyone who is blissfully happy all the time?  Is it possible to never crash or lead a truly charmed life?

Illness, death, birth, job loss, affairs, insecurity, uncertainty…

Obsessed with those stupid “wrong” shoes. 

Picking the scabs you shouldn’t, not keeping your hands to yourself, buying the chips when you already feel fat.

Worrying, worrying, worrying, worrying, worrying, worrying. 

Always. Worrying.

Born to worry, born to second guess. Born to contain your breath in that little space under your breastbone.  Tiny little breaths pretend breaths.

“If I don’t breathe I can disappear,” breaths. 

We all breathe this way. You’re not alone. 

Always breathing, never breathing.

It’s true.  You’re human.

Not knowing what to say, what to write, how to understand, how to support.

Not knowing.

Going over the same scene in your head, over and over. 

If only you had said something different, worn something different, cut your hair, put on makeup, trimmed your beard, plucked your eye brows, cleaned your bedroom, did the dishes, sorted that box, made the cardboard fort, sang karaoke, made the speech, asked for the raise, asked for what you’re worth, asked for the date.

If only you really danced. 

Really and truly danced like no one was watching, including YOU.

It’s true.  You’re human.

And you know what?

You're not broken, you're not defective, there's nothing wrong. 

You're just human.  That's it!  What a relief!

Love yourself not despite your humanness, but because of it. 

I love you, and I love myself too.

My mother, upon hearing the story of my father’s lonely hippopotamus saw his oh so human lonely animal and decided that the only thing she could do was to love him too. 

What else is there to do but to love the black gooey human mess we are and dance until some of the sludge slides off. Then love it some more and keep on dancing.

Love,

Cecilia

p.s. I would love for you to share this with your favorite human. 

p.p.s. My dear friend Samantha Keen is giving a free talk on The Art of Falling in Love on Monday May 27th in Toronto.  You should come!  More details and RSVP info here

p.p.p.s. Samantha and I are putting together an amazing weekend meditation workshop called Pathway to Clarity, June 22-23.  Nothing has helped me more than this work and I'm so grateful to be able to share it with you.  Find out more here

p.p.p.p.s. If you're reading this and you're not on my list, you should really get yourself on it!  Just pop on over here to get on!  All the cool kids are doing it!

p.p.p.p.p.s. I love you!

 

DANCE!

 

 

I love my Vacuum Cleaner!

This morning found me doing something a little odd. 

Before my shower, before putting on pants even, I was vacuuming. 

My bed. 

Why?  Because I have a dog, as you may have heard.  A black dog.  Who sheds.  A lot.  

But that's not new, I've had a dog for a long time and my bed has been as furry as Jon Bon Jovi's chest for years now.

What is new is that I got a new vacuum cleaner last night.  I am so excited about this new vacuum that even before I opened my eyes I was thinking about all the things I could try it on.

My new friend has been a long time coming. 

About a year ago my old vacuum lost one of it's wheels.  It still worked in a hobbly annoying kind of way so I kept using it and started dropping hints that a new vacuum cleaner would be nice.  To myself, to my mom, to my sweetie. 

While I was away in March, it lost another wheel, 2 out of 4, which solved the hobbling problem but began a new set of issues, floor scratching, poor suction and general vacuum malaise. 

Thus the purchase of Animal, my new super powerful and adaptable vacuum cleaner. 

My friends think I'm a little crazy, they don't understand why I am SO excited about my new Animal.

I'm excited because vacuuming can be downright magical.

It's kind of like clutter clearing.  Clutter clearing can be a chore, or it can be a life transforming process. 

Vacuuming can be a chore or it can be the fastest way to transform the energy of your space. 

I learned this trick from my Space Clearing friends, Karen Kingston and Tracey Stanton and I've never looked at vacuuming the same way since. 

The rush for a new vacuum became critical in the last couple of weeks because I've started to see clients in my home office which means that my house needs to be clean, not only on a physical level - black dog, lots of fur, everywhere, all the time - but on an energetic level too.

Before and after each client, I give my office a quick vacuum. 

Before, to set the space for the clients session, and after, to clear the space for the next activity. 

That's a lot of vacuuming, but it's a joy, especially now that I have a new buddy to help me out.

You can do this too! 

  • If you have some friends coming over, vacuum for your friends. 
  • If you want to have friends coming over vacuum with the intention of having friends over. 
  • If you've had a fight, vacuum up the harsh words.
  • If you were sick and now you're feeling better, vacuum up the energetic kleenex and sniffles.

I'm serious, go try it!  And if you hate vacuuming no matter how magical it can be and you would rather someone else clean your home, just set the intention before they come. 

Happy Vacuuming!  And if you would be so kind to pass this along to one or two of your dear friends, me and my new vacuum cleaner will do a little jig, in our underwear.  ;)

Love,

Cecilia

ox

p.s. If you're reading this and you're not on my list, you should really get yourself on it!  I send out a fun and useful email just about every week.  Just pop on over here to get on!  All the cool kids are doing it!

 

Tulips Love Ice Cubes, Do You?

I just got back from a month in California and didn't give you a heads up because I thought I could meditate and blog at the same time. 

It turns out it's hard to write when your eyes are closed, imagine that!  ;)

I'm back and delighted that the snow is gone (for this week) and our springtime friends are making an appearance for the first time this year. 

Hello crocuses! 

Hello not as fat (but still pretty fat) squirrels! 

Hello guys wearing shorts when it's too cold out!

Last Sunday me, my sweets and Bella went for a long family walk, and halfway through I couldn't resist two bunches of red tulips I found on Roncesvalles for only $6.   Six dollars!

The bargain distracted me from the fact that it would be a long time before they saw water again. 

It took an hour and a half to get home, and then I'm embarrassed to say that I got sucked into email for another hour or so before I remembered that I had new babies to take care of. 

When I finally turned my attention to the tulips, they were sadder than a clown who missed the caravan out of town.  So limp, so lifeless, so so sad... 

I did what I could, trimming the ends, peeling off the most lackluster leaves and putting them one by one into fresh cold water with tulip food mixed in. 

You've never seen a more depressing flower arrangement.  The centerpiece for a called off wedding. 

In a final act of desperation, I grabbed a tray of stale ice cubes and dumped the lot in.

The tulips hung their heads all the way down to the table, ashamed of their new mother and for trusting the farmer with their bulbs.  All that work, growing and getting ready to bloom, for this?

Before I went to bed the tulips had lifted their heads just enough to memorize my features for their post on the "People Who Hurt Flowers" website. 

It wasn't looking good. 

Imagine my surprise when I walked into the kitchen the next morning to find a beautiful healthy bunch of tulips, with strong green leaves, stretching and growing to meet the sun like a group of runners at the starting line. 

What happened?  What was the secret to their success? 

Of course they needed water and food, but the last ingredient, the one that really worked...

Ice cubes!

Tulips adore ice cubes. 

Perhaps it reminds them of the cold ground of early spring.  

It's only tulips who love ice cubes, a rose would feel very hurt and misunderstood if you threw a bunch of ice cubes into her vase.  The rose says, warm water please.

I have to admit that coming back from California left me feeling a bit like those forgotten tulips.  Limp, tired, dull.  While I was away I felt strong and capable, with moments of extreme discomfort, but always fed, always supported, always connected. 

So, I've been on a hunt for the human equivalent of ice cubes, for the secret ingredient to help me spring and grow.

I started by trying the usual.  Singing, jogging, meditating, working, tea with friends, etc...  But it didn't help.  I felt OK, but I didn't feel that jolt of inspiration.  I didn't feel Alive with a capital A! 

Those things must be the food and water.  Expected, needed, but not enough.

What is the ice?

Ice is different.  Ice is unexpected.  Ice is bold.

I've been sitting with it for a week, trying this, trying that and this is what I've figure out.

 

Ice is Will. 


Ice is opening your eyes in the morning and deciding to wake up. 

Ice is writing through the discomfort. 

Ice is finally doing the thing you've been procrastinating for months. 

Ice is deciding to open, even though it would be so much easier to close.

Ice is not something that happens to you, although it might feel like it at times. 

Ice is you saying "Bring it on!" and then opening your arms to receive it. 

 

You may have to remind yourself that you invited the ice in.

You invited the ice because you want to grow, you need  to grow, and you're not content to flounder limp and lifeless in a vase of tepid water.

Ice is not the every day. 

Ice is a statement, a choice. 

It may feel harsh or scary in the moment, like the first dive into a cold spring lake, but after a moment it just feels like LIFE!  And just like that cold spring lake, you're never going to get in if you inch your way in, you have to jump.

Remember, tulips LOVE ice cubes. 

The ice is something that you LOVE but that scares the shit out of you.  What scares you might be something soft and vulnerable, sharp and cool, or muddy and wet.

I'm a tulip, I need ice.  I love ice!

Today's ice was finally finishing this blog post and sending it out to you.

What about you?  I'm curious, what's your ice?  Let me know in the comments below, and if you have a human friend in need of a jolt of inspiration I'd love for you to pass this along.

Love,

Cecilia

ox

p.s. If you're reading this and you're not on my list, you should really get yourself on it!  I send out a fun and useful email just about every week.  Just pop on over here to get on!  All the cool kids are doing it!