zena musings

"I sit there thinking about how much courage it takes to live an ordinary life." ―Colum McCann

I've always been big into ceremony, ritual, celebrations, the marking of meaningful dates. I got married on June 21st—twice—to the same man. Once for the legality, once for the show. Today, six years after my divorce, somewhat suprisingly I didn't even remember this used to be my wedding anniversary until I looked at someone else's wedding photo on Facebook. Even then it took a couple minutes before it dawned on me. "Summer Solstice. Wedding. Oh yeah . . ."

Last year I wrote this. This year? No reaction. No emotion. No melancholy. Simply a historical fact.

Pretty darn cool.

What's also different is that I decided not to make a big deal out of today.

Usually my thinking goes something like this:

Hooray, it's the Summer Solstice! I should dance! Rise to the occasion! What am I going to wear? I have to dress up! I have to take extra special photos and write extra special wisdom and read + share lots of extra special writings and generally make a Very Big Deal out of this extra special day!

Jeezus. With a brain like that is it any wonder I'm exhausted? This is why I ask (beg) God to please direct my thinking, every day, repeatedly. Had I been invited to a Solstice gathering I might have attended and quietly participated. But I don't have it in me to whip up extra special. And anyway, the Divine isn't manufactured. No grand effort is required. It's simply allowed in.

So instead of getting it up spiritually, I let the Divine put me to use. I saw, heard and read things I'd rather not see, hear or read, thankyouverymuch. A K-9 officer killed in the line of duty. Driving on the highway next to a truck hauling pigs, probably to slaughter, praying as one stuffed her pink nose out an air hole. "I'm sorry, pigs. I'm sending you love." Heart fucking breaking. Sitting across the table from a veteran haunted by fears I can't begin to fathom. Locked eyes, unflinching, bearing witness. Because faith was present. Fear or faith—no other choices.

Pretty cool deal. Instead of reflecting on the past, I got to be present for today. Not today as the Summer Solstice, but today as this day.

A day, apparently, that wanted someone to pray for pigs. To pray for the struggling veteran who found God in the rooms of AA many years ago and, as he said, "She never left me." To offer hope and a hug to a woman new(ish) to the rooms of AA. We see you. We know you. We're with you. To pray for a fallen K-9's handler. To read poetry, which I cannot get enough of. To eat crappy Teriyaki chicken and terrific steamed broccoli. To play with Silas. To reach out and offer free photography services to several local organizations with K-9s. To pack + ship candle orders. To read more of Zoli by Colum McCann, a magical and haunting story about a Gypsy woman in Czechoslovakia. To say thank you. To breathe. To wish my jeans weren't so tight. To not eat sugar after yesterday's binge. To offer encouragement. To soak in wisdom. To accept. To change. To choose. To allow.

A day like any other. Not a former anniversary. Not a seasonal turning point. Just what this day asked. Simple as that.

P.S. I do wish you a Happy Solstice. I mean it.

"When I arrived in Carlotta, I thought of the words Marlowe had said to me over fifteen years ago: Dead men don't wear plaid. Huh. Dead men don't wear plaid. I still don't know what it means."

It was like this, but different.

Sometimes at another age, in another time, you fall in love through a single picture and countless words, across continents and oceans, through languages and logic. Sometimes you sense the magic long before you meet. You conjure past lives and fated futures. More often than not one of you is batshit delusional. But sometimes there is the one chance, the one place—you’re both right.

And when at last you meet, the reality is more intense and exciting than your wildest dreams. Nothing ever since comes close. And you discover it's true—love never dies.

Oh, it hibernates. And you’re well aware of the sleeping bear in the cave. You become as familiar with the shapes, shadows and sounds of his slumber as your own breath. The constant lull of his slow, methodical heartbeat pulsing your blood. You recall the memory of his medicine at a moment’s notice.

Maybe you carry the cave with you down the aisle. Plant flowers at its door. Maybe you forget to water them. Maybe vines overtake the mountainside, entwining your heart with overgrown tangles of thick deadwood and strangled greenery, encircling your wrists like handcuffs, stuffing your mouth with leaves. Maybe you forget what freedom feels like. Maybe you don’t.

Then one day, out of the blue, you hear soft grunts and rumbles. What’s happening? Shhh... Don’t interrupt. Just experience the miracle of how in one single big bang of an instant the bear opens his eyes. How the impossible happens: a shift in perception that you did not invite, engineer or plan. How time collapses, vines disappear, leaves dissolve. No past, no future, no in between. Only—

This.

Right.

Now.

That night you dream like you’ve dreamed once before, of a love so urgent and a connection so strong that upon awakening you’re shaky and weeping. You squeeze your eyes shut. “Take me back,” you whisper-plead, as if it’s possible to will yourself anywhere but awake. As if you’d even want to deprive yourself of this first fleeting taste of sweet water after a drought lasting one-third of your life. You’re too old and—let’s face it—too tired to be greedy.

You know what enough is.

What you feel is the vulnerability of hope. The cool welcoming air of an empty moonlit cave, walls decorated with hieroglyphs—love letters written by the bear. You plant flowers at the door. You water them. You bring a candle inside the cave. You smile. You wait. Your feet have never known where the path leads, but the undeniable siren song of your journey grooves on the unknown.

You know there’s no other way but to let go, explore and love more deeply.

Maybe the bear goes with you. Maybe not.

Maybe that's not the point of this story.

21 things that spontaneously flew out of my heart + fingers this morning

1. It’s easier than you think.
2. Whoever you are, whatever your desire, wherever your path — OWN it. Unapologetically.
3. Be real. Be YOU. Playing it cool is dull. (Thank you, Danielle LaPorte, for nailing it.) Enthusiasm is hot. Awkward spontaneity smashes the flimsy weak veneer of hip every fucking time.
4. If right now you’re mimicking someone you admire, keep going. Stay curious. Keep writing, keep moving, keep taking pictures, keep reading, keep exploring and for God’s sake keep obsessively listening to your deepest innermost guts. You will stumble upon your unique way of stringing together words, composing images or moving through life.
5. Within you are undiscovered talents, strengths and treasures you don’t even know exist. They may be different from what you expected. Don’t shrink away. Claim them. Trust them. Follow their breadcrumbs.
6. Keep moving forward. But please please please know it’s OK to rest whenever you need to for as long as you need to. Rest is necessary. Just pay attention to your intuition because timeouts can masquerade as secret ways to coddle your fears.
7. Share your journeys and discoveries with us, honestly and openly. We want to hear your stories. We need the wisdom of your learnings. We long to witness and support the unvarnished truth of you.
8. At times you may feel different than. That’s OK. Different doesn’t mean separate from. You belong and you always will.
9. Change is not an option. Change is the essence of Life. You can’t hide from change so don’t even try. Embrace your lifelong evolution and the personal evolution of every single person you know. 
10. Make letting go a daily spiritual practice. 
11. Those stories you tell yourself in your head? You’re making them up. Stop falling for fiction. Don’t make assumptions. Be willing to change your perception.
12. Practice, practice, practice. There is no mastery. Do your best and eventually your best will get better. Screw perfection. Adopt the attitude that sucking actually ROCKS! Toddlers don’t berate themselves when their legs buckle and they fall on their rumps. They get up and try again.
13. Life is short and unpredictable. ENJOY. Choose wisely. Be good to yourself.
14. Love with unfettered abandon whoever and whatever lights you up! No need to justify, rationalize or explain.
15. That said, being on the other end of someone's obsession feels creepy and gross. If someone you’re attracted to doesn’t share the attraction, let them go. Stat.
16.  Prayer works. Prayer works best when we let go of what we think the outcome should be.
17. Your comfort zone can turn into a Venus Flytrap. Being uncomfortable is often an incredibly good sign. 
18. Remember you’re not in charge. You’re not the Head Coach. You’re simply one important yet temporary player on a really, really big team. Everyone contributes in her or his own specialized way. No one is expected to play the game alone and you won’t carry the ball 100% of the time. Sometimes we’re on the court, sometimes we’re on the bench. We all contribute no matter what. We’re always part of the team. 
19. God has bigger plans for you than you could ever possibly dream of. Get out of your own way. Leave the Big Game Plan to God (S/He holds it anyway). Leave room in your hours and days and weeks and months and years for Life to guide you, dazzle you and use you in magical + unexpected ways.
20. You know less than you think you do. You love less than you’re capable of. Isn’t this marvelous? Keep your beautiful heart + mind open!
21. Love always wins.

The Art of Asking by Amanda Palmer

This TED talk by Amanda Palmer has kicked open a door I've been eyeballing with curiosity. It's a dialog I intend to wholeheartedly be part of. Because the old ways, and many of the current ways, do not resonate with my heart. This does.

“I trust you this much. Should I? Show me.”

Subverting Fear

Smack dab in my busiest time of year. If I were a CPA, today would be April 12th. The work phone is ringing. Orders need packing + shipping. Candles need pouring. Repairmen need calling. Dobies need walking. My upstairs is a hot mess. There are a hundred practical things I should be doing and writing isn't one of them. Nor is sitting in my pajamas at noon, checking FB, reading spiritual stuff or listening to Marianne Williamson. But this is precisely what my soul needs today.

Breathing room. Nourishment. Reassurance.

It is becoming less and less possible to override my spiritual needs.

For large and small business owners there's a frenzied, competitive greed at the holidays that I'm certainly not immune to. The unspoken yet tangible pressure to jump onto the spinning carousel of consumer spending and grab for all the golden rings your hands can hold. BUY MY STUFF! Wallets are open, dollars are begging to be spent and from a business point of view I should be capitalizing the living shit out of this season. I have done so in the past. I have earned a fair amount of money and I have suffered the consequences: year-end mental breakdowns, illnesses, not enjoying my own holidays.

This year I can't. I can't and I won't. This year I'm saying fuck that noise. For me, sometimes living life + owning a business is like being in a packed auditorium with nearly every person in attendance clamoring for attention. It's loud, it's overwhelming, it hurts my soul and I need (frequently) to escape.

I've struggled sending newsletters for two years. Do I need the money? Absolutely. This year has yielded my lowest earnings since I started zena moon in 2000. I don't blame the economy; it's all me -- I love my candles and my company but I'm simply tapped out and ready to move on. I truly cannot wait to hand over the reins to a new owner who will lavish her with the time, love and attention she deserves.

Meanwhile I get to practice accepting that I can't function at the higher levels I used to.

Accepting that I desperately need a break from marketing. Wanting to learn new ways to share my work in the world, which may include hiring someone else to do it for me.

Trusting that I can still earn a healthy living. Not knowing exactly how but knowing I've got skills and am worth it. Being open. Asking for + receiving help from smart, generous souls.

Believing Liz Lamoreux's reminder that "it really is okay to move at your own pace."

Reading this by Anne Lamott, which nails my experience lately:

I pray all the time, but without a deep sense of union or connection. It's like taking a survey by phone. I do it, but I mostly just want to be done. Still, you know what? I think it's okay. Some patches of time are going to be rich in communion with God, Goodness, Good Orderly Direction, even the Gift of Desperation. Other times? Not so much. As always, though, it is the right time to be exquisitely, crazily friendly to myself.

I'm going to keep doing my sort-of-faking-it prayers; my phoning it in prayers. We take the action, and the insight will follow. The insight will be how crazy and isolated I feel when my electrical cord is not plugged into the vast supply of gorgeous, hilarious, heartbreakingly profound and sweet divine supply. This lackluster phase will pass. Then, the joyously plugged in phase will, too.

Knowing (or at least suspecting pretty strongly) that my Higher Power doesn't want me to spend any more of my precious life striving/worrying/pressuring/judging/berating myself to the point of actually looking forward to death because at least then all of the striving/worrying/pressuring/judging/berating will be over and done with.

Saying that I trust my Higher Power even when I'm not sure I do.

Telling the truth, again and again and again. Laying it all on the table, every single day, with at least one other human being. Because God works in my life through other human beings and like Anne Lamott also wrote:

...which was about letting God into your worst drawers and closets, and how healing could not happen if you let God into a living room that had just been cleaned for the occasion. If you wanted healing, you had to show God the mess.

Being honest.

Being open.

Being willing.

Being grateful. Because I am, more than words could ever convey. Thank you for reading this. Thank you for your support and encouragement. Thank you for buying my candles. Thank you for being here.

A day of thanks, honesty and openness

Happy Thanksgiving!

9:37 a.m. and already I've read these words several hundred times this morning. Big smile. My heart passes them on to you.

No matter what your life circumstances, no matter how looming your sorrows or fears or losses or struggles, I hope it is a Happy Thanksgiving for you. I'm learning (which means I'm practicing + experiencing), at last, that joy is a choice and there's always something to be grateful for. Sometimes it's totally basic. Electricity. Hot water. Not being imprisoned for being who you are. Your heartbeat. Dogs. Stephen Colbert.

Chances are, this moment is OK. You're safe. You're warm. You're breathing. Your needs are met. Wants are another story, with a storyline that causes mucho suffering. Let the wants go. Fuck the comparisons. Let yourself be content with what-is. You can always pick up your wants later. As an old-timer friend always says, "Life's good if I let it be." I don't know about you, but life's usually pretty good when I'm in this moment. Not that one. This one. And now this one. When I don't judge, compare, rehash or wish otherwise. When I focus on facts rather than my feelings.

Not every day/holiday is festooned with fairy dust, glittering hope and twinkly lights. I just hope you don't wallow in misery because like it or not that's usually a choice too. Find somewhere to be with other people. Volunteer to serve dinner at a homeless shelter. Hell, sit down and have dinner there. We're all equal and we're all family. Call someone. If you're in recovery, there are TONS of fun gatherings and Alcathons with round-the-clock meetings and free dinners. Nothing and I mean nothing blows out a self-pity funk like getting out of your own head, being useful and focusing on others.

We are not meant to do any of this alone.

Today I'm grateful for so many things. Elizabeth Gilbert nailed it when she wrote:

"I am grateful for the ever-possible gift of transformation."

Yes. I am grateful for what God has blessed me with.

For new days and the possibility of new choices. For the willingness to change, even when I drag my feet. For my creativity. For the openness to let God decide what's best for me. For my ever-fluctuating trust (the obstacles are the path, right?). For my kickass supportive family -- some blood, some chosen. For the love and companionship of Silas the Dobie, and my furbabies who've crossed the Rainbow Bridge.

For 7+ years of sobriety, and all my fellows + fellowettes. You rock this life with raw courage, humility, grace and gut-busting humor! Thank God for a solution that bands us together.

For passions and talents that I didn't even know existed within me until recently. Photography. Gonzaga Women's Basketball. Triathlons. Asking God to show me who I am 'cuz who knows what other superpowers dwell inside me? I sure don't! Just because you're in your 40s doesn't mean your Jello's set!

I'm grateful for the mystery of whatever's next. For unmet love. For unknown adventures. For untapped wisdom. For unexplained and unanticipated grace. For ever-deepening and ripening and exploring. For more God, more love and more miracles.

Thank you.

Flashback 15 years: Marriage, divorce and healing

Fifteen years ago I was laying on a rose-strewn massage table. It's my wedding day. I never expected to get married. Never wanted to. But I'd fallen in the kind of love that feels permanent. For the first time I'd found someone I wanted to commit to.

Like us, our ceremony and vows were unconventional. Drums beat, sage burned. My gay boyfriends walked me down the makeshift aisle in our backyard. Our dogs carried our rings. A dear friend, an ordained Catholic nun, officiated. We promised to be together as long as it served each of our highest good. And for 10 years we were.

Our marriage ended five years ago. As separations go, it was amicable. He helped move me to Spokane. We vacationed together that summer and even spent Christmas together. Bittersweet. Even though I'm now grateful a hundred times over, letting go was an excruciating process. Everything about my life changed. My home, my community, how often I saw my dogs (we shared custody for years), my comfort zone. I was lost and fragile.

For months I couldn't even say the word divorce out loud. When the Marriage Dissolution papers arrived in the mail, I realized how insignificant -- like signatures on a marriage license -- paperwork is. That's neither where our relationship came together nor fell apart. I remember pulling them out for a friend who was spinning out over her own separation saying, "This little 1/2-inch stack of paper? That's all a divorce is. Your relationship still exists, just in a new form. Stop scaring yourself with words." Ha! Exactly what I needed to hear myself.

For a good long while I was angry, hurt and resentful, but that shit's toxic and I stayed committed to my spiritual path. No matter how I felt, I went through the motions of right action. Naturally I licked my wounds raw time and again but mostly I acted as if this was God's will for me. I practiced trust, sometimes well, sometimes crappily. Lots of f-bombs in my prayers those days. Slowly a new life unfolded. New friends. New community. New activities. New everything. Better everything.

My ex and I were estranged for a while. A tough yet absolutely necessary gift. Fire purifies. Today we're building a new friendship. Our lives are progressing exactly as they're meant to. I absolutely love the woman he now shares his life with, and their nutty Dobie.

Healing takes time and dedication. It takes willingness to be really uncomfortable (not my strong suit!) and do awkward stuff like gratitude lists, socializing and being in this moment on a continuous basis. Fortunately I'm surrounded by lots of wise women (and men) I'm willing to listen to and accept direction from. They've never steered me wrong.

Recently I was clearing out old paperwork and stumbled across my divorce papers. I don't need these, I thought. I inhaled with a new awareness and freedom. I don't need these. So I shredded them. Not with animosity or vengeance, simply with release.

The past is over.

Today I'm alive and free in ways I never dreamed possible. I absolutely LOVE my present and I'm excited beyond measure for the future.

But I went through hell to get here. The secret? I kept going.

My summer fun to-do list

Swim in outdoor pools
Play in lakes, rivers, kiddie pools, any available water
Spend two weeks exploring abandoned places in Montana with camera, tent and Silas
Make and drink much lavender lemonade
Go barefoot as often as possible
Read novels
Evening bike rides with friends
Celebrate Silas's 8th birthday
Celebrate my brother's mumbledymumbledth birthday 
Tend my new garden box
Pick huckleberries
Dive deeper into my work
Take (daily) action on my dreams
Lay under the stars and watch the Perseids meteor shower on 8/13
Volunteer + get inspired at Valley Girl Triathlon
Play with the kids in my life
Hike, walk, run, lounge, frolic in Nature
Explore, experiment and open up to new ways of being via Kerry Blazek's FUN 40-Day Feel Good Challenge and Leonie Dawson's Business Goddess e-course (ridiculously excited for both! sooooo ready for new learnin'!)
Meander around my awesome neighborhood
Take frequent roadtrips to new places
Overdose on cherry tomatoes
E N J O Y
Let summer have its way with me in new and beautiful and unanticipated ways
Take a ridonculous amount of photos
Learn, grow, live even more deeply in awe and gratitude

Many thanks to the divine Stacy De La Rosa for the inspiration. If you write your own list, please link to here in the comments so I can read yours too!

Exciting changes + opportunities! zena moon is for sale...

A few weeks ago I announced on Facebook that I was preparing to begin the process of selling zena moon. GULP! Still a little hard to say, but day by day I'm becoming increasingly ready to wholeheartedly venture down a new path full-time—namely, my photography.

Never have I known such clarity and purpose or felt so much passion and excitement! As much as I've loved (still love) candlemaking, over the last couple years photography has caught fire in me like nothing I've come close to experiencing before. After 12 amazing years building and running zena moon, a new adventure is calling me body, mind and soul.

Since I’m at the beginning of the vetting + selling process, I’m looking for guidance and assistance. If you know anybody who’s successfully sold a business or know of any resources that might help, please send them my way. Already I've received quite a few interested inquiries and I need to learn what the next steps are.

That said, there's no urgency and I’m not in any rush. Making sure zena moon transfers into smart, capable, enthusiastic and dedicated hands is my number one goal.

So! If you or someone you know is interested in buying an established, successful 12 year-old candle company with thousands of customers and endorsements by Oprah, Martha Beck, Pamela Slim, Fabeku Fatunmise, Patti Digh, Jennifer Louden and countless other luminaries, contact me.

It truly is a once-in-a-lifetime business and spiritual opportunity for the right person!

I'm welcoming a mindful, careful process based on love and intuition. zena moon is my baby and I'm trusting in God's timing and direction.

To all our wonderful customers: you have no idea how much I love and appreciate you! I'm still in love with zena moon and nothing has changed here in the studio. You can still order our candles with wild abandon—in fact, please do!—and I promise that when the transition to new ownership does happen, disruption to the business will be as minimal as humanly possible. Also that the quality of our candles, if it does change, will only be for the better!

We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned,
so as to have the life that is waiting for us.
— Joseph Campbell

Blessings,

An Invocation for Beginnings, or "Let's start this shit up."

I'm scared. I'm scared that my abilities are gone. I'm scared that I'm going to fuck this up. And I'm scared of you.

I don't want to start. But I will. This is an invocation for anyone who hasn't begun, who's stuck in a terrible place between zero and one.

Thanks to my friend Olivia for sharing this truly fabulous invocation. I'm posting it so I can watch and believe and internalize it again and again, as I start some of my own shit up! And so you can too. I think you'll love this...