Farewell Amy, and Thank You

My favourite children's author died today. And it hit me like a tonne of bricks, for some reason.

I was introduced to the incredible craft and beauty of Amy Krouse Rosenthal after our daughter entered our lives. We received a box set of Little Pea, Little Hoot and Little Oink from my brother. As soon as I read these gems, I was in love with her voice. You know when you read something and it sounds like the voice inside your head, and you think, I wish I had written this? Yeah, that. I was connected to the simple structure, humour and universality from the get-go. 

I'm slightly embarrassed to say that I had never visited her website until today. I felt I knew her through her work. I had never sought out more about her; her work speaks for itself. Imagine my delight to find reams of videos and other creative endeavours waiting to be discovered there, and the chance to know her more deeply! 

As I explored her site a little today, I found this, among other things. (I would make one edit, near the end, from "mankind" to "humankind"...otherwise, it makes my heart sing!) It was written and created several years ago, but I connected with her words and message immediately. They reflect my personal journey toward and into a meaningful life for the past several years, and especially lately.  

I was puzzled why I was so upset about her death today. I'd never met her. I wasn't stalking her every move on social media. I hadn't even been aware she was unwell. I haven't read everything she's every written or seen everything she's ever created. So what was up? I sat with it through most of the day, and came to this:

I realize I'm sad that she won't produce any more amazing work to add to the collection of kindness, beauty and delight she brought into this world.

She was only 51. I'm sad that her husband and children and extended family and friends and colleagues will miss her presence. Having recently been through the what-ifs, and the writing good-byes and capturing life advice and making videos as last mementos for my loved ones, I know her reality could have been mine a couple weeks ago. And that hits close to home. I imagine she felt the same things I was feeling about leaving too soon. And my heart breaks for her and her family. 

I'm sad because I will never have the chance to attend a writing class or a book signing or other event and meet her. I realize now, as I look at my vision board about my creativity and writing, which features two of my favourite of her books (Little Pea and Uni the Unicorn), that she really was who I was hoping to become, as a writer, anyway. And now she's gone. 

And yet, I am so grateful that she was here, and that she created, and inspired others to create. And that she left such a gorgeous legacy in her work, which I get to keep exploring. 

And so, because of Amy, I am motivated to Always Trust Magic, Beckon the Lovely, Connect, Do, Embrace the Empty Space, Figure It Out As I Go, and Go To It (from Amy's 7 Notes on Life TEDxWaterloo talk). 

In love and light,

Jilly

Energy, empowerment and extroverting for the win

I tried a new thing a couple weekends ago: JourneyDance. I attended a workshop led by the lovely and glowing Michelle Brass and met (and danced with!) a group of exquisitely amazing women. 

I didn’t really know what to expect. I was drawn to enrol in the experience prior to learning I needed surgery and I even contemplated withdrawing right up to an hour before the workshop began. Something told me I needed to attend, and I listened.

I allowed my curiosity to lead me; I knew Michelle a bit and was curious about this dance thing she was doing. I also felt called to get out of my head and into movement and into my body this year. And I wanted to say yes to something that pushed me out of my comfort zone AND was completely about and for me – not my day job, my kid, my marriage, my health, my coaching business. A little bit of luxurious self-care just for me.

And I learned again that taking care of myself extends to all the other aspects of my life. Of course.

And that a group of women coming together in community to heal is incredibly powerful. Of course. 

(We did have one lovely man join us for the evening workshop, and it was wonderful to have male energy on the dance floor as well.)

The experience was challenging and so very rewarding. I was challenged to let go of insecurities (there were REAL, trained dancers in the room!); challenged to connect to my body and turn off my critical mind; challenged to trust my body to move me how it wanted to be moved, to speak for me, to express what needed to be expressed and exposed; and challenged to trust a group of strangers to see me, hold me, love me based on how I showed up that day. And to trust I could do the same for them as well.

The beauty and power and rawness of the music, energy, movement and the women – THE WOMEN – who were present was magic. I felt honoured to be able to witness their grace, lightness, heaviness, frivolity, expression, emotion and connection. We held a sacred space for and of each other. Hearts opened, tears flowed, strength emerged. Beauty everywhere.

The entire experience opened up awareness for me into previously dark or perhaps ignored places. What is my connection to my body? How I can I be so appreciative of all other bodies but not my own, not really? If I was accepting of it, why do I feel so self-conscious of its appearance? Its capabilities? Why do I take it for granted? What does this illness create in terms of opportunity to reconnect and honour my physical body? How do I want to be with my body? Why did I get this diagnosis? What’s the message in it? Is it my fault? 

I’m someone who tends to feel totally okay about my body one day – It’s just a physical form for my soul and mind, right? What’s the big deal? It doesn’t matter what it looks like! – despite all the messages our society sends about how women “should” look (and behave…but that's another post), and then another day, I’m completely disappointed in it and embarrassed to leave my house and be seen.

The fact is, I need this body to do the things I want to do in this lifetime. I need it to work for me, to keep me mobile, to be able to communicate and care for my family and to do the things I love to do, like walk in our fields, travel, create. I need it to be healed. 

In my coaching practice, I use "geography" with my clients to get them out of their thinking minds into their bodies and connect them to their intuition. We use the room or space and our physical forms in it in different ways to open up energy and thought and feeling and perspective. We use the body as a tuning fork, or as a satellite dish for receiving notes or signals from our intuition or the universe or god or fill-in-the-blank. I learned through this experience that I can go deeper, into my own body, and therefore will be more available to go deeper with my clients. I’ll have more range and depth to offer them. 

I happened to catch a few minutes of The Nature of Things on Thursday night as well, and it was all about body language. You can watch the episode here. The part that I caught was a brief interview with Dr. Amy Cuddy who talked about research, often called "embodiment," that shows some emotions we experience are hardwired to display in our physical bodies, and the way we move and hold our physical bodies has an impact on our emotions. How many of us have been told to smile and it will help improve our mood? Did it work? Science says it does. 

So, if I dance like no one's watching, will I move without inhibition? With freedom? With truth? Will my true emotions pour onto the dance floor? Maybe. Dr. Cuddy recommends we fake it NOT until we make it, but until we BECOME it. So how might I move on the dance floor, and through life, in a way that I become what I want to be? And how can I help my clients do the same? 

I was talking with my doctor a couple weeks back about the stages of grief…he said I will likely experience anger at some point…I haven’t. I haven’t felt anger toward my body at all. Regret, yes. I have apologized for not listening to it, to not nourishing it as well as I could have, for neglecting it, but I haven’t felt anger toward it, or the illness.

I’m never judgmental about other people’s bodies. I truly marvel at all the shapes, sizes, colours, abilities and differences between all the people I encounter. It’s all so fascinating! How can one species be so very diverse?! The wonder of it all! And yet, the things I think about my own physical form would be completely unacceptable if I said them out loud to another person. Why the double standard? I'm aware of the beliefs around negative thoughts and emotions and cancer. Did I cause this? Did I manifest it? I'm not entirely convinced, so I'm being curious about it.  

JourneyDance opened up a lot of curiosity for me. 

I moved my body. I danced like no one was watching. I likely looked foolish. And that's okay.

I laughed. I cried. I witnessed. I held space. I grew weary and sore.

I even extroverted and told some fascinating women I want to keep in touch with them. I dare say I made new friends. 

If you're interested in exploring emotion and self-awareness through movement, check out Michelle's site for her latest offerings in the Regina area. 

In love and light,

Jilly

Feeling the love

Today is one of those commercial holidays that I’m not super crazy about. I mean, the sentiment is lovely, but this day tends to create angst and fretting and a sense of obligation about gift-giving and displays of affection and declarations of gushy-googliness that I’m not really into.

It screams, “Spend money to prove how much you love someone, and they will prove how much they love you by how extravagant their gift for you is!” For someone whose love language is not gifts, this doesn’t “prove” anything. It actually does the opposite.

And, this day tends to exclude or ignore people who are not paired up, whether by choice or by circumstance, and that’s just no fun.

I’m a big fan of Galentine’s (really, I’m a fan of almost ALL things Leslie Knope), and people finding their own way to “do” Valentine’s Day. Like my sister-in-law’s buddy, who, for an anti-Valentine’s event in Montreal this year, created “2 giant vulva sculptures you can sit in and wrap yourself in labial love!” (Check her out: @vulvaluv). Yessss!!

So this year, rather than be a Valentine’s Scrooge McDuck -- OKAY -- to be LESS of a Valentine’s Scrooge McDuck, I’ve tried to cultivate a sense of gratitude to help me feel the love that is all around me, every day. I’ve been able to crank up my awareness of what I’m grateful for in my life, and feel the love coming my way.

Here’s a short list of the love I’ve experienced in the last few weeks since finding out I’ll be undergoing cancer surgery next week:

• Tucking-in snuggles with my daughter in the evenings
• Prayers, good vibes, ju-ju, and other positive intentions from the kindest people in my circle, and beyond -- Christians, Muslims, Buddhists, Pagans, Wiccans, atheists, agnostics, and all kinds of other non-particularly-denominational people
• Hugs, lots of hugs, and often from unexpected people I wouldn’t peg as huggers…like one of the guys that built our house (and has since become a friend)…I got two from him last night!
• The free sharing of resources, contacts, information, experiences…my network grows…
• Lunch dates
• Coffee dates
• Kind words from people who, despite dealing with their own personal challenges, take time to reach out….you are amazing
• Phone calls, emails, texts and messages from friends and colleagues near and far
• Drive-by well-wishers at my office
• Slobbery excitement from my dog as he leaps for joy when he gets to go to daycare
• Hand-made cards from my daughter
• Speediness in the healthcare system
• Prompt and efficient and wonderful HR professionals helping me navigate the medical-leave-of-absence bureaucratic process
• Gifts of wine, chocolate and pistachios
• Another foster family opening their home to provide a safe and loving place for the boy that was in our care so I can focus on my health, and the Social Services staff who worked magic to allow it to happen quickly

And so, my heart has been filled and refilled by the generosity of the people in my circle and in their circles.

The world is a good place.

There are good people doing good and kind things.

On this day about love, let’s all remember that.

And spread some! 

Love and light,

Jilly