Imagine One Day You Woke Up & Could No Longer Feel the Emotion of Inadequacy…
What would be different? What has changed? If I woke up tomorrow morning and could no longer feel inadequateI’d worry less about etiquette And whether the participle comes before or after the predicate I’d worry less in general, about opinions that I now let diminish me And it seems like they all but finish me But instead I suppose I’d feel adequate, And say ‘enough is enough’ to not enough. I’d take a massive hit of the good life, yeah, that’s the stuff. And then I’d channel my enough-ness into my work, my fun, my play, my life, I’d likely feel an ending to so much internal strife That controlled me prior to my self-defeating emotions flying away like carefree birds on a wire And so little would be so dire I might even just take a load off, laugh a little more with a caramel apple sider and cozy up with blankets, and security, and my family and my hope intact, All snuggly by the fire. I’d feel less like a pauper and more like a sire. A king would rise up every day where a gentile use to sleep And that would be adequate enough for sure To take many a faithful leap.
Don’t Get Pizza Wrong!
This piece was inspired by a writing prompt a fellow coach/writer gave in a group: “Write about something you are a snob about.” So here it goes. My thoughts on what makes really good pizza. DON’T GET PIZZA WRONG: The disc must be chewy, and the red drippings must be the perfect balance of tangy and sweet The melted rubber on top should be charred and not burned, like the chewy disc underneath I am generally of the idea that when it comes to the hard things in life you can’t do it wrong if you just show up and put yourself out there. But if I’m honest that doesn’t apply to everything. You can do pizza wrong, and in fact most do. It is not meant to have apples and walnuts for toppings Keep it simple stupid and don’t get so carried away with your shoppings A good classic thin crust cheese can reach the heights of sublimity While a deep with the works can be a blight if the reason you want it is just fast delivery There is more than one way to make really good pizza, But there are infinite ways to make one so terrible it can just demoralize entire civilizations. Don’t serve me flat bread with goat cheese and pass that off as my zaa Because that shit’s too fancy and usually tastes kinda blah Pizza doesn’t go on bagels, no matter what the freezer section of your local GMO factory passing itself as a grocery store tries to tell you. And it doesn’t come frozen period. If you have to defrost it, then you’ve totally lost it. And you might as well toss it. I don’t mean to sound cold, but if I can be so bold, If the pizza you’ve chosen starts out frozen Then I’m afraid a modern version of snake oil is what you’ve been sold This is a story that needs to be told Because pizza can be healing, and heaven When the dough is properly leavened And it can be the stuff of childhood memory and nostalgia But not if it gives you heartburn, or the shits or the tummy tum tums, So remember not all pie is created equal And calzones are not at all to be considered pizza’s sequel Pizza is a stand alone film, a box office smash And it has to be baked with love, not dropped off by door dash. So if I sound a little crusty, or perhaps a little saucy It’s because this is very important so I don’t mind being bossy I don’t normally like to make others wrong, but if you’re using BBQ sauce or buffalo chicken then you’re singing a tone deaf song. You think it goes in a microwave Oh behave Make your dough from scratch, and cook your organic sauce for 8 plus hours, Then bake at 500 degrees, while you finally take your showers. Then you serve your bounty, hot and tasty and divine And create your family memories knowing everything is fine. And that this is how you dine.
If I Were A Ghost…
IF I WERE A GHOST… Could I still be haunted? Could I still be daunted? And I would still get all jealous and sour when people flaunted their shiny objects and expensive trinkets? It’s hard to imagine, but I tend to think it’s quite possible that a ghostly existence comes with similar pitfalls and challenges and mental tournaments; because despite halloween with all it’s ornaments a ghost was once a person, in theory anyway. And the best part of being human is learning and yearning and feeling that ego death churning. We sometimes like to hide under sheets so we already have that in common with ghosts. Or get three sheets to the wind when things get too scary so we also have things in common with a whole family of ghosts. If the best part of being human is the depth of experience and the range of emotion then the best part of being ghostly might be a similar thing or quite another notion or even more depth and range, vaster than the ocean. If I were a ghost I’d glide through walls that as a human I seem to have to keep breaking down or pushing over. If I were a ghost I’d see right through to the heart of the matter and sometimes for fun make my humans jump with an unexpected clatter. I wonder if I’d be more all knowing, or more in the dark? I hope it’s the former and not the latter I’d like to think if I were a ghost I’d be a consummate host not so much haunting the joint as protecting it, guarding it, making it safe for those who live on after. I’d cozy up and watch from the highest rafter. If I were a ghost I’d never ghost you I’d be right by your side maybe causing shiver or chills or unexpected thrills but I’d always toast you. When the goblins or gouls came a knockin’ I’d tell ‘em this is my haunted house So keep on moving, keep on walkin’ there’s no room for any more stalkin’. So I’d be this invisible force slaying your demons and dragons, like a friendly Casper-y, hobbit-y Bilbo Baggins. Just dutifully following my new and glorious quest To look after my descendants So they can maybe taste transcendence And realize they have already passed the test And can finally and fully, in peace, rest. And I’d realize I’m not alone up here but supported by all my dead ancestors And we are all looking down, watching our cycle breakers Shake their money makers And shatter old mistakers Because though I’m a ghost I am with you and so are all the other ghosts that died long ago We are your sacred lineage And we watch you, support you, cheer for you Because we’ve been misunderstood, as you have. And we love Halloween because this thinning veil means we maybe, might just get to say hello again, and good bye, and in that haunting exchange realize that ‘hello’ and ‘good bye’ aren’t relevant anymore, because we are with each other always. Happy Halloween I love and trust you humanity. -Brian
What Are You Saying A Resounding “Yes” To?
Geez, I don’t know. First thing that comes to mind is that I’m saying yes to being broken. I have a broken tail bone and I’m embracing this down time. I’m going with the flow, learning and growing, right? Or am I simply escaping into television and cannabis? Am I crawling out my life and into someone else’s? Am I crawling out my mind and letting the plant float me up away from my problems? Or am I being too hard on myself? How do you “face your demons” when everyone knows demons are too scary to look at? Um, that’s why we have television, dummy. So we can look at that instead. Higher Self: Yeah, but sometimes the TV has demons on it? That’s different, those demons are fake, and mostly always loose, so it’s good. HS: And some would say the TV itself is demonic? Okay, well I think things have the meaning we give them. HS: Yeah, but I mean, the emf waves that come off your TV. The CIA released declassified docs saying that the waves from old TUBE tvs can be used to effect the nervous system of humans. Really? HS: Yep. So what am I supposed to do, say “no” to TV now too? HS: Yep. I’m supposed to be thinking of something to say “yes” to, though, remember. HS: Say “yes” to your health. Ooof, I felt that one. And I just realized, saying “yes” to my health might mean saying “no” to other things, but the YES is larger and more long term and more important than all the “NO’s” that get me there. HS: Yes! *Brian blushes at his higher self. So wait, tho, are you saying I have to stop watching all TV? HS: No, I’m saying that when you saying “no” to some things you love, realize that it is because you are saying yes to something else far more intangible, but often far more important to you. You’re in a physical body so the immediate is always more palpable to you. But the long term, the small changes over time that lead to massive changes in who you are and how you live, those are where joy is deep and everlasting. You kinda lost me. HS: I’m saying believe in yourself. Be gentle with your self. Make piles of small changes. And when you find yourself lamenting too many “no’s”, try and remember the larger aspect of your new life that you are really saying yes to in that moment. Um, examples please: HS: When you say no to sugar you say yes to fitness. When you say no to grudges you say yes to tranquility. When you say no to certainty you say yes to exploration and discovery. When you say no to a night out you say yes to rested body. When you say no to an old habit you say yes to a new one. Okay, that’s pretty clear. HS: I thought so, yes! So what am I saying a resounding yes to right now? HS: From my perspective you are saying yes to expansion, yes to trusting the divine, to having faith in the design and to no longer being bashful about how brightly you know how to shine. But what does that look like practically? HS: I think you know. I want you to say it. HS: It means you own your struggles, and your journey, and you share it, and know that any rejection is really our protection against whatever isn’t meant for you. That’s very scary. HS: Do you think you can say a resounding yes to it. Nope. Not yet. I can say yes, but whether it ends up being resounding or not, I’ll surrender that to you. HS: Perfect, now you’re gettin’ it.
Describing the Most Beautiful Sound I’ve Ever Heard (A Sensory Piece)
Is the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard a ringing? Is it a steady sound or a wavering sound? Could it be a dinging, or am I more in search of a pinging. Perhaps it sound like a clanging But definitely not like a clanking, that’s more an awful sound, I’d imagine oft used in pranking… Or spanking, if it were being done to a robot with a metal paddle. Is the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard a singing? Is it the musings of a human voice, or a hand on an instrument stringing? Does metal make this beautiful sound or is created out of wood Is the beautiful sound a whooshing, or a sloshing, would that even sound any good? Sometimes when I wax poetic I’d like to say its the sound of my own voice that’s so beautiful. That’s not at all true, it’s really the idea that contains the beauty, and ideas come from something much much smarter than us. The vibration of ideas comes from much much higher From the clouds it can transpire that an idea ignites in a way to inspire, and create an almost holy fire. Like freedom and equality. Electricity and running water. The mother fucking cronut. Perhaps the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard is a rumbling The kind that comes from a groundswell brought about by those same kinds of fiery ideas that caused institutions to start tumbling, and politicians to start bumbling. Maybe the most beautiful sound is destruction, because like a climatic, cathartic crechendo a the end of an impassioned orchestral plea, it hits every note, blazes a trail of glory impossible to follow again even right down to your cells, destroys your ego and leaves you humble and breathless in the face of such creativity. You know, like a forest fire does. But I actually think the most beautiful sound is the sound perfection makes when humans laugh at their monsters and their imperfect, even offensive jokes. When taking things seriously becomes seriously out of the question. Yeah, that sounds beautiful, I like the sound of that for sure.
The Perpetual Conversation That Never Really Was…
This fictional conversation was inspired by the writing prompt: “Imagine your inner lizard is a character in a fictional scene, write about a moment when something triggers its fear.“ Brian sits next to a crying teenager, comforting them. A parent approaches. PARENT: Why you tryin’ a tell people how to live their lives? Who died and made you God? ME: Well, actually, we’re all God, in a sense. You see the universe is a fractal and we are all just individual reflections of a greater reality. PARENT: Sounds like garbage. Some woo woo crap. ME: I assure you it’s not its… PARENT: Well, do you have all of your vices under control? ME:Well no, but I — PARENT:Exactly, so you come in here, a bag of dysfunctions yourself and you think you can tell me or my kid how to live? ME: I don’t think I’m a whole bag of dysfunct— PARENT: My God, such arrogance. Who do you think you are? ME:I’m sorry, I am definitely not trying to tell anyone how to live, or how to behave? Only what works for me to lessen my own suffering. PARENT:Well, la dee dah. Who asked you? ME: I didn’t have to be asked, it’s sort of my calling. *Parent rolls eyes ME: Well, like not a calling, but you know, like a purpose. It’s like, what gives meaning to my minutes. PARENT:Meaning to your minutes? Are you a poet now too? ME:Well, I’ve never been published if that’s what you mean, but otherwise, yeah, I guess I’m a poet too. PARENT: Listen. You are a dysfunctional poet who isn’t even sure if he has a god damn mother fucking calling or not, so while you figure it out, how about you stay the hell away from me and my kid. *I don’t look up, I can’t. I just nod. PARENT: Come on, Karen, we’re going to leave. This man-child can’t help you. Some degree from the Martha Beck school for energy specialists or whatever, forget it. I’d rather you get a nose job and have friends. KAREN: Um, thanks. I think. Parent and Karen walk off. Karen looks back and waves at me. I smile back, hoping she’ll remember the body compass techniques I taught her for when she’s picking her major. I take a few deep grounding breaths as the thought storms rage. The accusations, like gale force winds, knock my illusions and assumptions around like straw in a hurricane. Am I a fraud? Do I have a right to charge people for something I feel called to do? Am I dysfunctional? Am I really that dysfunctional? Do I have to be fully functional to help people? I’d like to think of myself like a fountain of healing. But like a soda fountain. So yeah, I’m not in tip top condition, the Sunkist is broken, the Diet is empty and if you try for Hawaiian Punch you get squirted in the eye. But all the other flavors work perfectly and no matter what you choose I can help quench your thirst every single time. The soda fountain analogy falls apart here because soda is toxic and poisonous and all the things are wrong with it, but besides all the foundational ways in which this analogy doesn’t work, it also does work. And that’s a lot like being a life coach while still trying to get your own shit together. *A new client calling on my cell. This time I answer with a new greeting: ME: Hot Mess Life Coaching, helping you keep your shit together while mine falls apart. How can I help you?
I Wish I Had Paid More Attention When…
How can I answer this, it is impossible to know, because I wasn’t paying enough attention to this on going show I wish I had paid more attention when I was feeling content. What was I doing? What was I feeling? Believing?How was I behaving? Hell, what was I eating? How was I sleeping and who was I sleeping with? I want to know, remember and recreate every single detail of past contentments, past joys, past triumphs, if only I’d paid more attention. I wish I had paid more attention when I was vital and young Where did that time go? What had I planned to create? What did I aspire to and who did I admire? I see now how minutes stack like bricks one on top of the other to create structures out of habits and patterns and, and decades and cement bars Maybe I’d recognize something useful in this time cage, if only I’d paid more attention I wish I’d paid more attention when I was living out what inspired me Instead of concentrating on all the things that tired me And required me to perspire and pull energy from anywhere like a reluctant vampire Inspiration is what freedom tastes like. It’s what makes liberation liberating and it makes the contents of moments matter even though they are formed out of the formlessness of atoms and thoughts. I’d love to be able to recreate it on demand, to live in it, bathe in it, drink from it, and I’d live there, soaking in it, minute by minute, if only I could remember exactly how I got there. How did I find inspiration or did it come hunting for me once? And now I’m just a trophy on a wall without even knowing I’ve been shot, drained, stuffed, groomed and now live all eternity decorating some hunter’s fire place, a deer head, forever caught in the headlights of my own failure. I’d love to find inspiration again, if only I’d paid more attention.
Beyond My Wildest Imagination
Someone asked me to imagine my wildest and best thing…. And my first thought was “no thanks, I’m zonked.” Can imagining make you tired? I imagine it can Like any muscle overused it gets torn and worn and in this case because of all the cognitive function involved in the workout, perhaps even forlorn I wonder if I can imagine an imagination so robust that it never tires from imagining that that might be the wildest best thing ever. An idea machine right inside my head that was simultaneously inexhaustible and energizing. Instead of exhausting and ephemeral. Let us put this to the test….what will my wild and best imagination create next? Well, that’s a lot of pressure. I guess if this is my wildest imagination, then it might be worth exploring what it means to be wild. Uninhibited. Unbridled Undefined and undefinable Some might say unhinged Others might say unglued But if a wild stallion channels that passion We say it is unfairly imbued With talent, with gifts, with a rare unique “it” factor Wild means you aren’t tame yet Wild means you don’t have rules or culture or worry about what others in your pack, gaggle, tribe, herd, murder or family think of you. Wild means your behavior isn’t so well thought out. Because your impulses don’t come from something so impoverished as mere “thought”, they come from energy, a heart fire so ineffable, trying to explain it seems like a waste of words even though words are infinite. If you pour something infinite into a bottomless abyss what do you get? A river? A waterfall? A black hole? A loop? A loophole? A paradox? Where does it end? Does it even have one? So my wildest and best thing might just be my wildest imagination, because it contains everything. You know like when you find a genie bottle and one of your three wishes has to be for unlimited more wishes. It’s like that. I want my imagination to be just like that. Everything I’ve ever dreamed of, I did so in my wildest imagination. Everything I’ve ever hope for, I did so in my wildest imagination. Nothing is beyond it, despite our reductive turns of phrase And nothing can escape from it. It is my entire world, created and about to be created. This is how to not get exhausted while imagining. Stay present with the state of being your imaginings bring you. Stay present now. Imagine now. Enjoy the imagining, know it is yours already. So often I look at my imagined creations as failures that have yet to even be, desires so lofty they remind me I am a failure before I even start. But what if instead, these imagined creations were evidence, exhibits A-Z in an open and shut case proving my certain success. Geez, I can only imagine.
What Inspires Awe?
In my writer’s group of fellow Wayfinder Coaches we were given the following prompt by a fellow coach: PROMPT: What brings you a sense of awe in your life and environment? What Inspires Awe? Volcanoes inspire awe Unless they are on a post card, then they’re awful. Babies being born inspire awe Unless they’re on tv sitcoms, they they’re awful Lightening strikes are awesome Unless they’re in a blog photo, then they’re awful Weddings inspire awe, Wait, who am I kidding, no they don’t. They’re just kind of boring and lead to snoring Or lots of drinking and overthinking Funerals don’t inspire awe but dead bodies seem to. Birds flying in formation are awesome Planes flying in formation are awesome The pyramid rock formations are awesomer still But what is most awesome of all is brave people breaking formation Dropping the etiquette like they’re all wasps from Connecticut And forgetting their manners and burning their day planners Violence inspires awe And in this noisy world so does silence Fear and tragedy inspire awe And punch you right in the jaw But there is one most obvious truth, so plain it seems almost mundane But it is truly true every second if our awareness can remain… The truth is the fact that life itself is alive. A field of experience thinking, and reasoning, and aligning on purpose for our highest good. Until we get in the way and short circuit this awesome process of living in the present moment. Life conspires, deliberately, to bring us fulfillment. It seems awesome to me, absolutely awesome that life is this responsive, this benevolent, this persistent and consistent and insistent. And yet, we find it all so easy to forget, to disbelieve, to write off as fairy tales and adventure stories. How awesome to be living in the middle of our very own adventure story, with life as our ally, our faithful sidekick, our trusty steed, or consigliere, our beloved, and being blind to it the entire time….that is so incalculably hard to understand that I find it simply inspires a sense of awe.
Existing Infinitely (Verbing Adverbally: The ‘Core Values’ Coaching Tool In Action)
In Martha Beck’s new book The Way Of Integrity she talks about using a verb + adverb phrase to discover your core values. For example it might be living (the verb) and courageously (the adverb), or loving fully, or chewing quietly (that’s one I’m still trying to master). In a writer’s group I belong to that is populated by fellow Wayfinder Coaches one of them suggested we use the model of a verb + adverb phrase to do a writing prompt to help us uncover our core values as a coach and a human being. You can check out what I came up with below in the 12 minutes we get to write in that group! That twelve minutes flies by faster than a Sessna crashing into the sea. Try combining a verb adverb phrase that represents a core value for you, and write about it. Then let me know in the comments how it went. Much Love Life Story Hackers. Existing Infinitely The culturally acceptable: Living Selflessly Caring Feverishly Obeying Politely Disagreeing Cautiously with out raising your voice The culturally encouraged: Proving Endlessly Achieving Relentlessly Boasting Subtly Giving Mindlessly to the non-profit of your choice From a broken place: Frittering Aimlessly Struggling Constantly Ruminating Involuntarily People Pleasing Perpetually while making very little noise From a place of privilege: Spending Carelessly Eating Mindlessly Commenting Blindly Learning Slowly and having it all explained twice From a place of victimhood: Suffering Silently Blaming Utterly Deteriorating Steadily Dying Regretfully, without every rolling the dice My deepest truth: Enjoying Wholeheartedly Luxuriating Ferociously Relaxing Deliberately Entertaining Consciously, because wouldn’t that be nice? My improbable dream:Influencing Humbly Prospering Completely Mastering Peacefully Teaching and Serving and eating pizza by the slice
