Juicy Joy – A Personal Development Book of Authenticity and Self-Love

It’s my birthday, and this is what my calendar screams at me each Sept 2: “Hey, Dummy! Your precious, beautiful life is happening! What the frig are you doing with it?” In recent years, I’ve always had a saucy, self-lovin’ retort ready. After all, joy, authenticity, and self-love are my gig. I’ve got to walk my talk. Model my wares.

But today I find myself at a loss to respond. It’s been so much limbo. I’d planned for this year to bring enormous shifts – professionally and personally – and it’s turned out to be something quite different. A year of dipping my toe into stream after stream, never jumping in. A rudderless year of perpetual anticipation.

It’s like I’m on an island, and all my end-goals are on another island. I start building a bridge to take me over there, and then that bridge doesn’t feel exactly right. So I abandon it and start building another one. But then I get the idea for a third bridge, so I start building that one instead. What do I have to show for this year? A kickass collection of half-built bridges. And I still haven’t touched that destination island. (Thanks, Gia, for inspiring the bridge metaphor.)

But has it been a bad year? Not in the least. I’m beyond blessed to have the phenomenal friends, family, and opportunities I have. I wake up profoundly, through-the-roof grateful every single day. And maybe that’s all I need to do right now – just keep being full-force grateful for the mountains of love I’m in the position to give and receive, even as I struggle with career crossroads, a dying mom, and all the personal mini-escapades that cause my life to feel like someone’s pushed the cosmic pause-button on it.

I trust that Universe is behind all of this. I trust that the pause-button has its divinely perfect purpose in the grand scheme of what I’m here to do. I know that if I just keep waking up each day sincerely asking Source how I can most passionately and effectively deliver the gifts I’m here to give, that eventually the play-button will get pushed again. And from that inevitable future perspective, I’ll look back and see, with chuckle-inducing clarity, how everything – including all my half-built bridges – has been a necessary stepping-stone toward that exquisitely sweet moment.

In some ways then, the cycle will probably start all over again. As it should. But in answer to my calendar’s impertinent question about what I’m doing with my precious, beautiful life . . . this time I have to respond, “I’m being it. That’s all.”

A common metaphysical assertion goes like this: Whatever shows up in your outer world is simply a reflection of whatever you’re holding in your inner world. And there’s a corollary to it it that says that when you’re really ready to break through to a new level of consciousness, all the lingering bits inside you that are NOT aligned with that new level will start popping up in your outer world to be dealt with – a housecleaning of sorts. It’s like the Universe arranges a round of rapid-fire challenges for you, just to give you the opportunity to deal with them authentically and fully at last, so that their hold on you can be released.

I truly feel cherished and loved by the Universe, so I know that these painful events and difficult choices are always a gift; an opportunity for me to push through to a deeper place of self-acceptance and self-love. I’m in one of these phases right now and I’m committed to viewing it as a teacher. I must have been a ready student, for this teacher to appear.

And I’m hoping that this metaphysical phenomenon works the same way for everyone because some people I love are wounded and I want Rumi’s “light” to enter them. We can’t do that for other people – not really. They have to be ready themselves, and they have to want the light.

I’m so grateful that I had the foresight to plan some student-time for myself next month. I’ll spend a week early in November with Christian Pankhurst – an amazing coach and mentor that I recommend wholeheartedly.

Then, November 12-14, I’ll be at Hay House’s I Can Do It Conference in Tampa. This phenomenal weekend of inspiring teachers always leaves me expanded, excited, Juicy Joyful, and deeply, deeply grateful to be a part of my beloved personal-development industry.

Sign up for the I Can Do It Conference at this link (And look for me there to say “hello!”)
Check out Christian’s trainings here.

My son, Tuck, decided to make history this year with his science fair project by proving that humans can feel the energy from crystals. When he told me his idea, I was reluctant to jump on board. The truth is I’ve never personally been drawn to the whole crystal energy thing, even though it comes up often in my metaphysical circles and I have friends who are very much immersed in it. Through me, Tuck has had the opportunity to meet several crystal healers, and those shiny, pretty rocks have always fascinated him much more than they did me.

I didn’t want to be unsupportive (after all, his science fair projects have consistently been unconventional and well-received) but I recognized that little inner cringe I still occasionally get when my worlds collide. I’ve gotten much better at managing those moments when my woo-woo-world meets my perfectly-regular-person world, but this situation revealed to me that I still have a bit of work to do there.

I’ll just say it: I was worried about what his teacher would think of him (me). Hmmm . . . what is that I always tell my Juicy Joy students about “worry”? Oh, yeah. It never helps and usually hurts.

So I sucked it up and pushed past my teensy discomfort and did all the supportive-mom things to help him bring his master plan to fruition. And he rocked it! (Pun intended). He devised a test, performed it on 20 subjects, and proved his hypothesis that people can feel the energy from crystals.

Have I mentioned he’s one of my greatest teachers? He not only helped me past my cynicism about pretty rocks, but he helped me to face and clear up my lingering vestiges of insecurity about being judged for my metaphysical affiliations. Rock on, Tuck. Rock on.

My 12-year-old son is the most amazing teacher for me on my spiritual path. I call him Present-Moment Man. He somehow manages to structure most of his present moments so that they’re filled with the things he loves, and these pursuits are so engaging that it’s impossible to pull him out.

I believe present-moment awareness comes naturally to kids, and we adults usually do everything we can to beat it out of them. Kids know life should be fun. Kids know you should follow your bliss, engage in things that excite you, and learn whatever you are naturally, in that moment, inspired to learn.

My son will enthusiastically and quickly comprehend an impossibly-worded manual for some advanced electronic device that I’d rather cut my foot off than try to figure out. He’s a skilled and avid videographer who seems to intuitively know how to use any complicated equipment related to this passion. But the basics of 7th grade math elude him; the monumental burden of actually writing down and following through with homework assignments repeatedly proves insurmountable; and I still have to ask him to brush his teeth in the morning.

I admit that I’ve spent many years trying desperately to “rehabilitate” my son – to cure him of his insistent present-moment tendencies so that he would more successfully fulfill teachers’ and society’s expectations of him. But he has proven himself incurable on that front.

He is the happiest, funniest, kindest, and most insightful person I’ve ever known, in spite of frequent academic failures, teacher disappointments, parental frustrations, and the ensuing consequences I impose on him. He simply, peacefully, refuses to expend any genuine effort or energy on anything that does not resonate with him. I still try – valiantly and in vain – to teach him the importance of caring about all of his schoolwork. But secretly, I’m envious . . . and a silent part of me cheers him on.