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I came across a phrase when I was making a new vision board not too long ago. It said: The Art of Living.

My heart seemed to explode, but a part of me scratched my head. What exactly did that mean? There’s an art to living? For much of my life until my major rebirth, life was about struggle and perseverance. There wasn’t much art to it. Life was a pretty gritty thing.

Fast forward to where I am now. I’ve been ditching those old programs with new intentions, and opening up to learning, experiencing, and feeling more love and joy in my life. This whole art of living thing seemed like the perfect next step.

The meaning came to me slowly at first, through a dear friend who has the art of living down: international bestselling author and showstopper, Kate Perry. We clicked in that magical way we sometimes do with people and talked about going on a writing retreat together. It ended up being in Paris when she invited me to join her there since she was going there for holiday.

I said yes, and this choice seemed to unleash something. Something powerful. Something new.

In the run up to this trip, I kept coming across dance references for tango and ballet. As part of this art of living, I looked for classes in the area and decided I needed to sign up. Honestly, I didn’t even know they had ballet classes for big people (haha). But wouldn’t you know it. They have a class four blocks from my house. Talk about synchronicity.

The art of living is a revolution in my life, and I am all too happy to unleash it.

So, I’m now the kind of person who goes on writing retreats for book research in Paris and drinks pink champagne while talking her way into famous restaurant kitchens for a cooking demonstration and their wine cave where dusty bottles from 1837 wait on the shelf to be savored hundreds of years later. I’m also the person who takes tango lessons and also puts on a red leotard with tights and ballet shoes. Even better, I finally stopped waiting on something I’ve wanted for a long time: my first ever new car.

The revolution is unleashed. The art of living is now my new normal, and I’m calling in even more experiences to bring me to new heights of happiness. I have to thank my friend, Kate, and all the divine helpers who are always around us, showing us the way to more love and joy.

Come join the revolution, folks. It’s brilliant here.

 

Photo: That’s Kate Perry and Moi at Paris’ Magical Eatery, Fauchon, having pink champagne, which is sold everywhere. I call it joy water now.

As a woman who was the oldest in the family, went to Catholic schools, and pretty much hated conflict, I was always “the good one.” I forced myself to fit into this box for decades. At times, all the emotion I would suppress would come surging out like water in a pot that boils over.

Emotions are life. They aren’t who we are, but we have this body, and it has this mysterious, mystical thing called emotions. In the past, I could feel the build-up coming, but I didn’t know what to do with it. Okay, that’s not true. I did. I tried all the harder to keep the lid on. It never worked. If the stuff couldn’t come out, it simply rooted itself in me in harmful ways. Illness, depression, avoidance. You know the ways.

This week, my energy hasn’t been completely in the happy jumping-for-joy category, and I decided to make my peace with it and say, “Screw it.” If my language offends you, well…you can stop reading.

But seriously. It’s not that I’m screwing being happy. No, that’s still my number one desire. I’m saying “Screw it” to all my stories that are keeping me from feeling it every moment of the day.

Happiness is saying, “Screw it.”

This is a loving act, a bold one—the kind of intention that leads to more freedom. I can feel it emanate and radiate from my very bones. Screw all this scarcity thinking. Screw all this negative thinking that I won’t manifest this beautiful dream I’ve been believing in and pursuing for five long years. Screw all the people who politely nod when I talk about still believing in it. I’ve had these polite nods before when I pursued the dream of being a writer before I became published. I am good at picking out the naysayers who hide behind their artificial masks, thinking you’re crazy under it all.

Screw the struggle to be happy, make something awesome happen. Simply screw it.

I surrender. I let it happen. I let it come, trusting somehow, someway it will. It has before.

In the meantime, I’m listening to tango music and dancing more, freeing myself up from this mind that really needs to take a holiday from its doubting thoughts. Dance is my physical way of saying Screw it all. I will dance and I will keep dancing. And as I do, all my earlier unhappiness starts to vanish, and I throw my hands up in the air with a half-smile, already restored.

 

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Have you ever felt like you were on the cusp of something big? I’ve been here before, and I’m getting more discerning about what it feels like. I feel that way again. There’s a part of me that feels overwhelmed by the potentiality of it all, and I’ll delete that thought the minute I write it. There’s also a part of me that is so freaking excited by the limitlessness of growth. What might happen? Now I can embrace the deliciousness of that question. Before, since I was trained as a conflict expert, I used to imagine and plan for the worst. But after a lot of work on those old patterns, I now am mastering the art of imagining the best.

Happiness is growth.

With this feeling being so strong, I am planning again. I know I need more help in my career as an author. I am growing in ways I never imagined—which is awesome—but it also takes time away from the one thing that makes me the happiest: the writing. And let’s face it, there are just some things I don’t want to do, things like spreadsheets and number crunching and such. Not my thing. I know it, and I’m happy to delegate it. Now, it’s all about finding more wonderful, highly consciousness people to work with me. So far, I have done really well in this. Sure, some people have been temporary helpers, but I am rolling with the waves.

At one time, growth seemed unmanageable. Now, I know things will work out. If it takes a while to handle some of the outcomes of rapid growth, well, then it simply does. I only have to rush as much as I want.

Yet, even as I write that, I feel like I’m moving quickly to prepare for the huge wave of abundance coming that is going to blow all my old conceptions of abundance to bits. I can already hear the divine saying, “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

I say, “Bring it.”

In so many ways, I have outgrown my life, my house. Even my very skin. I feel like a million seeds that have burst their skins in a greenhouse and are ready to be planted in a much larger field.

So, here’s to growth. Lots of it. And to the support needed to manage it and cultivate it and ride it. What’s growing in your life?

 

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This whole week, I have felt two days behind. Everyone around me seems to be running late too. I’m even writing this post a day later than usual. I’ve felt overwhelmed with my upcoming book release—not my usual energy. My mantras this week have been many: I have more than enough time; everything will get done somehow; I trust others to get things done; it’s all going to turn out awesome.

I was just discussing the need to trust others when things are running late with my sister. Most of us work in some form of a team, even if it’s our personal life. I remember how I had a few other sisters who always ran late when we were trying to leave for church. I was “always” on time back then and found it frustrating to wait. Now, I’ve allowed myself to be late and go with the flow when it feels like there’s nothing I can do to change it. When I’m caught in traffic and know I’m going to be late for an appointment, I don’t sweat it as much. I call if it’s going to be more than ten minutes and simply do my best. I don’t drive faster anymore. What’s the hurry when I want to stay calm and safe?

Happiness is Being Late.

The other thing I have learned about being late is that sometimes you’re right on time. Have you ever had that happen? You think you need something on x date only to discover two days later that something better came along out of the blue.

Giving myself—and others—a break for being late has also been one of my new pieces of compassion. We all have run late at least one time. Sometimes I don’t know the reason someone else is late, so I don’t get angry with them anymore. I bless them and simply hold the intention of it all working out beautifully in the end.

This week I felt so behind that I even thought about cancelling my special lunch and fun time with a best friend. I fought the urge. There’s an old Buddhist saying: when you’re busy, meditate twenty minutes; when you’re really busy, mediate an hour. I meditated longer and went on my fun date. And then did the work needed when I could. It’s easy to get lured into sacrificing the fun stuff in our lives. The truth is that there is always stuff to do and that somehow it will get done. Deciding what’s critical and what can wait is part of growing up.

Have you been running late? Have you been trusting others to come through for you in the end? Join with me and give yourself a hug when you’re being late. Heck, maybe even go a step further. Hug the people in your life who are running late. We could all use a break out there.

 

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Just this week, I came across a saying that gave me pause.

You don’t get what you want.

You get what you believe.

My first thought was holy moly. I’d better check my beliefs.

I’ll admit I sometimes fall back into old negative habits where I get frustrated when I don’t get what I want. What about you? Platitudes like—You don’t get what you want. You get what you need—never worked for me. I’d scratch my head and ask myself, “Why in the world did I need this?” It was painful or really hard. And don’t even get me started on platitudes that say: It was meant to be or It will all work out like it’s meant to.

I have finally learned that I’m the co-creator of my life. I am not a victim or circumstance or fate. When I started acting this way, e.g. believing it, my life really started to become happier.

Happiness is believing it.

What do you believe? About yourself and your life? This week I am writing down my ten core beliefs about myself and my life and deleting the ones I don’t like. Here’s a preview.

I am lovable. Keep.

I am powerful. Keep.

Great things happen to me all the time. Keep.

I’m still having to work way too hard for the good stuff. Delete.

I sometimes don’t know what to do. Delete.

What does your list look like? Join with me to take inventory and believe your way to a happier life. Every day my happiness percentage increases, and because of that, I know yours can too.

 

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For a long while, I thought home was a place outside myself, a place where I could feel safe and happy and comfortable. It’s taken me some time to realize that my true home is inside of me. It’s that quiet center where everything settles into peace, joy, and contentment. It’s the sanctuary from the busy, chatty mind who wants to tell me all the reasons something won’t work or all the ways that I’m wrong.

Happiness is making a home inside yourself.

It seems so obvious now, but it wasn’t. I thought home was a place, the building I lived in. I even thought it was my family. But it’s none of those things. All of them are impermanent. All of them can’t fully be everything to me. I am the only one who can be everything to me. I am the only one who can truly see to all my needs.

So, I’m keeping it simple this week. I’m seeking that special place inside me more and more as I surrender to the unknown, to a future that sometimes seems less than clear. I am home. I always have a home. I can always find that home. It’s inside of me.

Are you at home inside yourself? Are you giving your power away to a person or a building? Join me and find that sanctuary inside yourself. Watch the happiness pour in like sunlight when you find it. It’s well worth the trip—and the stay.

 

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Do you love yourself? It took a long time for me to feel real love for myself, and there are still times when I feel shame over the shadows inside me.

Do you remember when you stopped loving yourself? I’m not sure it happens in one moment. We come into this world thinking we’re wonderful, knowing how beautiful we truly are. But that gets eroded, like the sea buffeting the coastline over time and changing its landscape.

My mom reminded me of a story last night, one I hadn’t thought of for some time. She always made our birthday cakes into shapes, sometimes an elephant, sometimes a giraffe. This particular birthday cake, she made a girl. My mom said I cried over this cake, and she was right I did, but I’m not sure she ever understood why. My mom had used yellow frosting for hair instead of brown, like my own. And she’d painted bright-blue freckles on her face, which stood out so starkly against the white cake that the girl looked like she had measles. I’m sure my mom made these choices unconsciously. She was only trying to make a beautiful cake. But I cried because I didn’t have blond hair, and I was ashamed of my freckles. That cake represented me not being good enough as I was. And when you aren’t told you’re pretty or special, there’s little to reinforce the newly sprung lie in your own consciousness. And so it begins.

I remember watching “The Help” and was simply revolutionized by the scene where Aibileen is rocking her blond little charge and having her repeat, “You is kind. You is smart. You is important.” She is reminding that little girl who she is. In that moment, I wished someone had done that for me, and then I realized I had to do that for me and my children and every other person on the planet. And I needed to add: “You is beautiful.”

Happiness is loving yourself.

Sometimes we get lucky and start out with people who love us for who we truly are and don’t try and change us into their image of them. For the rest of us, we have to find the love we have inside us for ourselves and nurture it and grow it, ever fanning the flames.

Take a moment to call up one of your first memories when you felt wrong or ugly or stupid. Bless that little child you were. Hold him or her and say with me: You are kind. You are smart. You are important. You are beautiful. But most of all, my dear ones, you are loveable.

 

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