Saturation Point

I recently read a quote about a unique approach to looking at how children learn. It stated that when given freedom to explore a healthy interest, children will pursue it until they reach a saturation point, then they’ll move on to something else…and this is a very good thing.

That resonated with me, because as adults, we aren’t geared to do this; we tend to develop interests early in life and pursue them for a lifetime, often allowing it to define us – ‘Oh, John’s master carpenter’ or ‘Sally is a marathon runner’ or ‘Bill is a great coach’ and so on. Long after we’ve reached out saturation point with it, we’re still doing it, because the idea we are supposed to like, do, or be this particular thing has become an integral part of who we feel we are.

Society - beginning typically with our parents - tend to instill the idea that we’re supposed to stick with anything we decide, because giving up on a pursuit is a bad thing. We’ve got to hang in there, ride the wave, be true to the commitment even when it’s not pleasurable for us anymore, even if it's not what we want anymore, because in the end we'll be glad we did.

Really?

My son is a gifted swimmer who recently asked to discontinue his year-long swimming practice. This was a hard call for me; he clearly has talent...but I believe in saturation points, and I allowed him to withdraw from training. Some of my friends did not agree; they felt I needed to teach him the value of staying power and commitment, which are of course important. The thing is, however, he never made the commitment to swimming. It was me who enrolled him in the lessons where his ability was noticed, and it was me who continued to push him to pursue further instruction. And for a long time, he’d gone along with it. My son, however, is far from being an obligatory sort and has no trouble whatsoever speaking his mind when he’s fed up (something I celebrate but often gets us on the B-list with other parents, who prefer to be the voice of their children, rather than hear the voice of thier children). Going to swimming was a twice-weekly norm for a long time, but now it had gotten old, and he didn’t want to do it anymore.

And I have to be honest, the routine had gotten a little old to me as well, I was bored with working out in the fitness room where the televisions droned and the faces never changed, and I’d taken to walking the track outside, just for something different to do for the hour he was in training. And the expense of it all! The gym membership and the additional cost of swimming sessions were averaging me about $100 a month, a fee I was willing to pay as long as he was enjoying it. When it became clear he no longer was, I remembered the quote I’d read and thought of how much sense it actually made. I withdrew my son from swimming and ended my gym contract with no regrets.

Why I even wrestled with this choice I’ve no idea, because reaching saturation points and moving on is a bold move, and something I do all the time. I’ve done it with jobs (teaching is the 4^rd career field I’ve entered and was my 4^th college degree); with hobbies and interests; and recently, with people. A few months ago, I made the very difficult decision to end a friendship with a person I simply could not justify – to myself – giving my time and energy to anymore. It was tough; I felt I was abandoning them…but I began to find that I just couldn’t respect them anymore. I’d been there for them many, many times, the kind of being there that requires you to drop everything and make that person your priority for a few hours, days, or however it takes, but they rarely stepped up to the plate for me. I struggled a lot with this, because I try to accept people as they are, and not everyone is a giver. But in time, I began to realize that I needed to really be honest with myself…everyone may not be a giver, but some people are just born takers, and that’s an entirely different thing altogether. After being let down yet again and again by this person, I knew I had to take a big step back.

I am a deeply spiritual person; I believe that God communicates with us always…we just have to know how to recognize this communication when it presents. Sometimes it’s in-your-face and undeniable, but most of the time, it’s pretty subtle. When I make a choice, I look for signs to see if I’m on the right path, or if perhaps I need to reconsider. I’ve taught my son to do the same. After quitting swim practice, doors opened for him to join Cub Scouts, an experience which has been nothing but positive. And within days of his mentioning that he’d like to learn to play the guitar, an heirloom acoustic was given to him by a family member who had no knowledge that he’d expressed an interest in learning to play. The time freed up from swim practice allows him to explore these new interests. It's wonderful. And no more of the dull work-out room for me…I’ve now found a beautiful new route to walk for daily exercise. My son joins me, and the time together is precious at the end of a long working day. We talk, share ideas, observe nature…and most importantly, we both enjoy it.

I love this aspect of life, this communication with something beyond us that lets us know we’re where we need to be. It is always there, and it comes in the reverse form, too. A few weeks ago, tired of all the rigmarole that comes with business side of being an artist, (or rather, to be honest, just bored with it), I decided that maybe it was time to focus my interests elsewhere. Not stop being an artist, mind you, as that would be impossible…but to take a break from the exhausting marketing and promoting of my work and just create for myself. I was at my own saturation point with receptions, hanging shows, printing images, etc...but within a few days of deciding not to do it anymore, I was flooded with opportunities to display my art and even received a new commission – clear signs that maybe my choice needed to be reconsidered. I was at a saturation point, yes…but maybe just a temporary reprieve, rather than a complete break, was what I needed.

This would not be the case with the one-sided friendship I had to step away from. In time I found that stepping back wasn’t enough, the situation was going to require complete honesty on my part at some point, a point finally came in the form of a long, rambling email from them detailing a new crisis that my unconditional love and support was needed to endure. My kindly worded response simply addressed a long-overdue truth: I respected myself too much for this, and I just could not be there for them anymore. Of course, I waited to see if I’d done the right thing. There was, within hours, a response email full of defensive protest from the person in question, and I felt bad  because I loved and valued them, but because I also loved and valued myself, I chose not to reply…and there have been no subsequent messages. This hurt at first, but in time their silence spoke volumes to me. It showed that my choice, while difficult, was the right one. I’d reached a saturation point with being treated inconsiderately, and I needed to free myself from the source of it.

Ten years ago I could not have done this…I’d have seen through any situation I found myself in out of a sense of obligation, because that’s how I was raised. But I’m beginning to realize the blessing of maturity is that we come into a place where we can step away from what might have served our parents and step into what will serve us as unique individuals possessing our own wisdom. We can reach a saturation point and be at peace with letting go and moving on because we don't feel bound by the ideas others have about the way things need to be done. Sometimes it’s merely a reprieve that’s needed, other times a complete break. The choice is ours, and that's a precious thing. We’ll be shown that we’re on the right path, or not…we just have to pay attention.

Knitting in Black Mountain

I am knitting in Black Mountain.

I have done this before. On New Year’s Eve, 2010, I came here to escape the realization that the relationship I was in was essentially over, knowledge I wanted to deny but was completely reinforced by my beloved making exactly zero effort to connect with me on one of the most celebrated holidays of the year. I rang in  2011 knitting a scarf for the daughter of a very close friend, a friend who would, a few months later, go deeply into her work, her focus diligent and unyielding, her vision leading her away from me and into a place I could not follow…but it was okay, because it was she who needed to go to that place, not me. I just had to let her.

It was also okay that the man I cared so deeply for swore to me that the blonde gal who appeared mid-December on his Facebook friends list and seemed to hover on his page, waiting for him to post something so she could instantly respond with obvious flirting had nothing at all to do with his decision to formally end our relationship a week after ignoring me on New Year’s Eve. He’s living with the blonde gal now and would still insist, I’m sure, that one thing had nothing to do with the other. But it's okay, because it is he who needs to believe his words, not me. I just have to let him.

But I digress, as I so often do when writing, or knitting. Writing gives me the ability to weave words into stories - something real, yet intangible…knitting, however, gives me the ability to weave yarn into shawls. Or hats. Or scarves. Or if I’m really ambitious, a sweater…something not only real, but tangible. That New Years Eve, in Black Mountain, I knit a long scarf out of some chunky red yarn, using big wooden needles I purchased at the Black Mountain Yarn Shoppe. While knitting, I followed no pattern. I simply cast on and kept going. 2010 passed into 2011, and I knit until the yarn was gone. The following week, I packaged up the scarf and mailed it to my friend, an act that would serve to link, in my mind, the two people I was closest to during 2010 together with the knitting of a red scarf on the eve of 2011, the beginning of the year I lost them both.

The following summer, in a much happier frame of mind, sun-baked from days of lakeside lounging, I started knitting a soft pink shawl, using a thin bamboo yarn that felt like heaven to touch. Like the scarf, I followed no pattern. In my mind I had an image of what I wanted to create – a V-shaped shawl, something I don’t normally wear (I prefer wrap shawls) and so I cast on 3 straight stitches, and then increased every other row. Then I changed needle sizes, because it was taking forever to grow. I kept increasing every other row. I went back to the small needles. Then back to big. Then back to small. In time, I digressed completely from the original plan, so caught up was I in the desire to finish what I’d started, even long after I realized that the thin yarn didn’t exactly knit up well with the bigger needles. I dropped more than one stitch, a nuisance occurrence that will usually lead me to pull an entire project apart, no matter how near I am to completing it. Such was the case with the shawl, which was laden with flaws and, actually, quite ridiculous.

Still, I want a pink shawl. I wanted it last summer, and I want it this one as well. So, on this new sojourn to Black Mountain, I carry with me the pink yarn, no longer the failure of a shawl it once was. This is a great thing about knitting; no matter how far along you are on a project, you can always un-knit it and start again. But the act of unraveling something you’ve spent hours on is hardly gratifying - kind of like spending the better part of a year devoted to a person who you see in hindsight was about as right for you as the thin pink yarn was for the oversized needles…in other words, eh, not right at all. And while unraveling after a failed relationship or loss of a close friendship is just a given, starting again…well…that’s much easier done with needles and yarn than it is with life. For most of 2011, I had a variety of ways of convincing myself everything was wonderful, but they were like the pink shawl I’d made...laden with flaws and at times, quite ridiculous.

 And so I started over, making a new pink shawl, a wrap one this time, using a pattern of my own making, because I’ve learned that it’s easier when you follow some kind of plan than try to make it up as you go along. And here are 5 more things I’ve learned:

1.       I don’t need to cross an ocean and learn a new language to be happy. Black Mountain is just a short drive from my own lovely home, and they speak English there.

2.       Some friendships last a lifetime. Others don’t. That's just a fact.

3.       Words are fabulous. I love them. But actions will always say much, much more…pay attention. Close attention. Actions say more than words ever could.  

4.       Sometimes we lose a relationship, and it’s a tragedy. Sometimes we dodge a bullet, and it’s a blessing. Know the difference.

5.       Thin yarn doesn’t knit up well on big needles. Alternating between big needles and small ones doesn't hide this...it only emphasizes it. And have a plan...making it up as you go along doesn't work for every situation. Knitting is one of them.

Pattern for Amy’s Spring Wrap

Cast on 46 (or was it 47?) No matter, you can make this baby as wide as you’d like. The odd vs. even number of stitches will give you a variation on the body stitch pattern, but not affect the overall construction. Try casting on a small gauge sample using an odd number (12) and then an even number (13) and seeing which pattern you prefer before casting on to begin shawl.

After casting on desired amount, knit first 4 rows.

Row 5:  Knit 4, then knit one, purl one, ending row with 4 knit stitches.

Row 6: Knit 4, then purl one, knit one, ending with 4 knit stitches.

Row 7, and all subsequent odd rows:  Knit 4, then knit one, purl one, ending row with 4 knit stitches.

Row 8, and all subsequent even rows: Knit 4, then purl one, knit one, ending with 4 knit stitches.

Continue knitting until desired length is reached, while retaining enough yarn for finishing edge.

Complete by knitting last four rows, then binding off loosely.

You could increase the 4 knit stitches at the beginning and end of each row to 6 for a thicker edge, but don’t reduce it for a thinner one. You need at least 4 to edge each side. I used 2 skeins of thin bamboo yarn; however, you could knit this lightweight shawl with probably any yarn other than chunky or novelty. Due to my being, as my friends say, a yarn snob, I go for natural fibers, and find the bamboo to be perfect for spring or summer knit-wear .

Amy's Spring Wrap is about 1/4th of the way completed, and being modeled in the photo by the infamous Lammy. If you follow this simple wrap pattern, please share your images/stories with me at amialley@hotmail.com

Important Message: Before You Throw Stones, Know The Whole Story..

We never know what is truly in the heart of another person, what drives or motivates them to do the things that they do or live the way that they live. It's always easy to judge someone when we don't know their complete story.

As some of you know, in January 2011 I went through an experience that devastated me. I'm not ashamed to say that now...devastate is the only word that fits. I was in a relationship and deeply committed, planning a future that seemed more glorious than anything I'd ever imagined. I had a best friend in the man I loved, an impossible closeness that was akin to having a twin soul. I was happier than I had been in years, so excited that every moment of life seems happy and golden...and then, on what seemed like the cusp of everthing coming together...he pulled the plug.What I thought would be the 'great love of my life' and change the course of my life was, well, simply gone from my life. And because the knife always seems to get twisted deeper just when you think you've already been broken enough, within a few months, he had a new 'friend'. I was replaced before I'd even had a chance to process what I'd lost.

I sleep-walked from January through April on auto-pilot. What joy I had to give I lavished on my son, determined he would not know what I was going through inside. I bored my friends to death with questions and theories but, God love 'em, the real ones stood by me and saw me through and never, even once, weren't there. I was 37 and this was my first broken heart. Other relationships had ended amicably, getting to a point where the need to end things was mutual and obvious. This was different. I felt gutted. I'd been through many things in my life. During the same 6 month period in 2001 I'd went through a divorce (brief college marriage), moved across country, graduated college and been diagnosed and treated for cancer...I'd sailed through that time compared to what I was feeling in January 2011.

And then, I had the 'Sad Eyes' experience (http://boldnessinitiative.blogspot.com/2011/04/sad-eyes-turn-other-way.html). It was simple and profound at the same time. I know now there are no coincidences, the gentleman who said that to me was in my path for a reason, and that was to wake me up from the coma of grief I'd shrouded myself in. I knew that I did not want one life experience to dictate the rest of my life for me, and that I had to pull myself up. No one else was going to do it. And it wasn't an option; life is short, too short to spend mired in bitterness and pain. I HAD to snap out of this, for my son and for myself.

And I did. I did it through changing my thinking, and being positive. I finally forgave the man who hurt me, much to his surprise and relief. I plunged into dreams I'd been putting off, things I'd always wanted to do but never taken actual time to do. I opened myself up to new friendships and spent more time with my existing friends. I made a life-changing choice to be positive, not only for myself but for others whom I came into contact with. In July, I became certified in Reiki, which required a vow of truth to myself and others, a decision that changed my thinking and as a result, changed my life. It wasn't an easy process (I encourage anyone who doesn't believe in 'energy' to undergo an attunement) but it was something I'd wanted to do for a long time. And I wrote about all of these things. Why? Because I hoped that somehow, some good might come from the experience I had been through. I hoped that someone else who might be going through the same thing I had been through could read my words and be inspired by them. In other words, as I healed, I wanted to help others to heal. It's that simple.

And so, I stand by my message, my manta of 'Choose Love', because it is the good that came out of an experience that nearly broke me. But the truth is, we all get broken at some point, whether it be by the loss of a relationship, a job, a home, or a dream. I've never really shared my story as completely as I am doing here, and it has taken some boldness for me to do so.  But it has come to my attention that there are a few people out there who need to know that my writings, my message, and my positive comments are not subtle commentaries about them.

No. They're about me. They are how I lifted myself up, and how I faced the world after the humiliation of a heartbreak that, wise as I am, I did not see coming. How I continue to lift myself up. We all get knocked down...what matters is that we pull ourselves up again. That we can still 'Choose Love' after losing something we loved. That we don't let loss define us, make us angry, bitter and unfeeling for the rest of our days. If my words have helped one person heal, which I know from the many comments and emails and messages I've recieved that they have, then sharing my message has been worth it. Recently I received a beautiful email from a lady who'd lost a loved one. She told me my encouraging posts and blogs were often the 'medicine' that got her going in the morning, and that she was grateful to have me in her life. I cried over that message...I've been where she is.

And so, before you throw stones, know the real story behind the person that you're trying to knock down.

Valentine's Day Message!! (Which is, of course....Choose Love!!!!)

Early morning duty is by far not my favorite part of my job, for it requires me to be at work by 7:15am. However, twice a week it affords my son and I the chance to see something we would otherwise miss: the sunrise.

We cruise down the road, talking to each other about how it will look, eagerly anticipating the view that will befall us when we turn left off the main road, for the minute we do, the sunrise comes into glorious full view. Most mornings, it is nothing short of amazing; a brilliant medley of pink, orange, turquoise and purple hues blended with the very lightest shades of blue. And one of the most beautiful things about it, the one thing I’ve taught my son to appreciate, is that no matter how beautiful it is the moment we lay eyes on it, it doesn’t remain. Typically, by the time we have entered the parking lot and exited our vehicle, the sky has changed, dissolving from sunrise into pale blue morning sky.

“Always remember,” I say to him, “the best things in our lives come to us in moments, fleeting moments. Be open to them when they come, and be present in them, or you’ll miss them.”

Love is like the sunrise. It tends to come in moments, fleeting moments, when we’re struck by the magnificence of our own capacity to feel for another person. Just like the world comes alive with the sunrise, our souls come alive in the presence of the one we love, and a new part of us is born when we allow them  to see through our guard, to be part of us, and part of our world. There is absolutely, positively, no feeling on earth comparable to falling in love and being loved in return. It’s like a series of sunrises, a series of moments more beautiful than anything we could have imagined.

It would be ridiculous if someone said they feared the beauty of each morning’s sunrise…but far too often, people fear falling in love, or worse - allowing another person to love them. When amazing moments present themselves, these people turn away. Feeling they don’t deserve anything this great, they settle for substitutes - lesser, more predictable situations that make them feel less, because to feel less seems safer. But that’s like deciding a static rendition of a sunrise that can be framed and hung on the wall is better than turning off the main road and being surprised, amazed, and humbled by the beauty of an authentic sunrise, for which there is -just like crazy, spell-binding, passionate, amazing, real love - simply no substitute.

This is the week of Valentine’s Day, a holiday when romantic love is celebrated throughout the United States and many other countries. This holiday has somehow grown to encompass all other forms of love, as I recently realized when I saw a Valentine’s card in a shop with the inscription, “To My Beloved Grandmother on Valentine’s.” But this is simply marketing…Valentine’s Day is still, in most of our minds, a holiday that honors the bond of romantic love and all it represents. And I think that’s wonderful.  Romantic love deserves a day all its own. Even if romantic love isn’t part of one’s life at the moment, the next day, week, or month, that could change. It’s one of life’s most amazing things, the way it strikes us out of the blue sometimes. I’m reminded, as my son and I make Valentines from recycled paper and paste cut-out hearts onto the front door, that this is not a time to be closed off to possibility. I’m fully aware that the best things in our lives come to us in unexpected moments, and that I need to be open, or I’ll risk missing them altogether.

On the way into school this week, reflecting upon the beauty of Wednesday’s sunrise, my son said to me, “Mama, can we wake up early one morning, drive over to this road, and dance under the sunrise, just to celebrate it?” I love the way my kid thinks…and in my mind I saw the image of the two of us, still clad in pjs, dancing together on the sidewalk as the sun came up. I had to smile. “When it warms up,” I said, “we’ll do that. I promise.”  And I’ll keep that promise, for that beautiful idea he had is one of those moments that, like real love, there could just be no substitute for.

So this Valentine’s Day, my message is a familiar one: Whether you are in a long term relationship, a new relationship, or have no relationship to speak of, this year, choose to feel real love, amazing love, love that makes you feel alive, complete, like you could take on the world, but without expectation of permanence or forever, because those ideas are what bog us down in fear and make us turn away. Don’t guard yourself against pain; we are built to endure what comes our way, not run from what might happen. Love can and often does last forever, but only when we learn be in the moment, not dwelling on the future and certainly not bringing up past hurts. Let down your guard and choose to feel completely…yes it’s a risk, but things worth doing always are. It’s a risk to take my child out dancing on the sidewalk while the sun comes up. People might think I’m crazy…but at this point in my life, I’m far beyond worrying about petty things like that. Give me the moments that make my soul sing. Who cares, really, what others think? It’s our experiences, after all. Our lives, our love, and our moments, so be open to them. Be in them.  And never settle.

Some loves last a lifetime, others are once in a lifetime. But if you pay attention, if you risk the safe road just a little, you might find the once-in a lifetime love that lasts for the rest of your days. You might just find out what 2012 could be like if you were not afraid. You might find, that in letting down your guard, you open up your life to extraordinary moments that you’d have never experienced otherwise. When we choose love, we choose to celebrate one of the greatest things about being alive.

I hope the moments of your Valentine’s Day will be extraordinary!

Choose love! J

Guest Writer Jennifer Smiecinski

F-E-A-R

I remember being a young girl and my mom taking me to swimming lessons. I went for a week to learn to swim with a group of other kids who were all very eager to climb the high-dive.


I remember them begging the instructor to let them jump. Finally, the instructor gave in and said, “At the end of the week, if all of you have done a good job, you can jump.”


Everyone was so excited- except me. On the last day of lessons, as promised, the instructor allowed us to climb the high dive to make that jump. One by one, all of the kids climbed to the top…. 1-2-3… SPLASH! It was finally my turn… I reluctantly climbed to the top and stood there. I looked down and saw my mom waving to me… the instructor was in the pool coaxing me to jump… I looked around a little more… then turned around and climbed down the ladder.


There would be no jumping for me. 


I am nearing completion of a year-long Yoga Teacher Training program through Greenville Yoga with Brian and Liz Delaney. The year consists of one weekend a month in Greenville to practice breathing, asana (Yoga poses), learn anatomy, and learn about meditation. In addition, there is required reading each month and a few hours each training weekend are spent discussing our reading assignment. 


I spent our October training weekend sidelined on the couch recovering from an illness. I was able to sit down with my books and dive in. I found the book I was reading was leading me on a quest for more information and more and more… After a few hours of the tailspin, I didn’t have clear answer for what I was searching for and just had more questions. I was frustrated and overwhelmed. I emailed Liz and basically said, “There is so much to know- where do I start?” 


While I was waiting for Liz to answer, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I realized that the answer about what I NEED is right here… in me. While there *IS* so much to know, in order to be truly content, I need to learn to trust myself in order to know where to begin. Yes- I want it all of that priceless information NOW but that is unrealistic. Instead of spinning my wheels and getting nowhere fast, I must figure out what I need for that day or that moment. 


During this teacher training, I have learned so much more than I ever began to imagine. I started to uncover the real me… the one that had been suppressed for many years.  I began to see  how I am driven by fear, how I don’t trust my intuition, and how I keep replaying the same story-line over and over in my head.  I always wondered why I would get so far into a book or meditation and either stop or get “busy” and not finish. At first I thought I may have ADD but now I know I was just afraid that the words on the page would touch that sensitive place inside that I had not allowed myself to feel in many years. By deepening my practice and study, I began to see that there is much work to be done on the INSIDE.


In order to find true contentment, I need to find the courage to work through the “un-shiny stuff” so I can face the person in the mirror, the REAL me, and be proud of the person I am becoming- I believe this will make me the most content I could ever possibly be. 


So- here I am standing on the high-dive again… only this time, I am jumping... 

Jennifer Smiecinski currently teaches yoga in Greenwood, SC. She will finish her 200-hour Yoga Teacher Training program at Greenville Yoga in March 2012. She loves spending time with her husband and children, eating good food, and listening to live music. She also loves hiking, running, and photography. She can be contacted at jen.smiecinski@gmail.com.

Book Review: 73 Lessons Every Goddess Must Know by Leonie Dawson

If I had a daughter, I’d want her to know about this book. I’d share it with her in bite size pieces, from infancy to adulthood, making sure to reinforce its lessons along the way:

Dream big. Trust your intuition. Believe in your gifts. Make joy. See yourself as radiant. Know yourself as beautiful.

And this is just a sampling. Possibly the most powerful text in this entire book, the most powerful words that could be told to any girl child, teenager, or even grown women are as follows: Inside you there is the wise one. The shamaness. The dreamer. The lover. The creator. The wife. The mother. The daughter. The sister. The artist. The one who knows best. The one who knows all manner of things in this world can be healed with a cup of tea, with an hour of listening, with those lightbeams we call love, and sisterhood. Inside you there is a goddess. Beautiful. Wise. True. Divine. (Can you feel her?)

This is my favorite page of the book, my favorite passage, my favorite bite size piece of wisdom from Leonie Dawson, a mother, artist and author who has made a life for herself and her family by inspiring women to be the goddesses that they truly are. No one told me anything like this growing up. Not even close. The highest compliment I can remember striving for, as a young girl, was to be called 'pretty'.  I wonder what might have been different in my life if I'd heard the passage above from childhood, if I'd not put so much stock into being considered 'pretty' (which, as a young tomboy with unruly dark curls and a swarthy complexion in a sea of blonde first-grade princesses, I rarely was) and put more stock into being myself? I wonder how my teen years might have been different if I'd internalized those powerful words as a child? I wonder how much stronger I might have been as a young woman had I known the truth of those words, as I do now?

73 Lessons Every Goddess Must Know is not the first book I’ve read that deals with these concepts, but it is certainly the most outstanding. Why? Because Leonie doesn’t write in a matter that elevates her, the author, to a wise, benevolent sage position, posessing wisdom far greater than that of the reader. She isn’t writing from the standpoint that she knows more than you, that she is at some higher level of awareness than you. Leonie writes as if she were you, because the lessons she illustrates in this beautiful book are lessons of life, lessons we’ve all had to learn, lessons we’ve still yet to learn. Many of her heartfelt admonitions and stories about her own life are so easy to identify with, sometimes I felt as though I were reading from my own journals. Like Leonie, I lost a brother when I was young. Like Leonie, I’ve seen the things which I thought were the worst that could happen actually come to pass. And like Leonie, I’ve fought against the universe – hard – when it didn’t give me what I so desperately wanted.

And like Leonie, I learned that through it all, I could survive. That I could still find happiness. And that I could come to understand (not fight against) the higher purpose of the universe delivering to me a lesson that I wasn’t aware I needed, and come to be grateful for it. Reading Leonie’s writing is like reading a letter from an old friend, someone who knows you, who has seen what you have seen, who has been where you are. And guess what? You’re gonna want to write back.

The good news is, 73 Lessons Every Goddess Must Know is an interactive book, with spaces for writing, doodling, pages to remove. The chapters are Joyful Goddess, Creative Goddess, Sacred Goddess, Radiant Goddess, and Mama Goddess. And along the way of reading, you’re gonna find that you want to write…something. In the book, in your journals, a long-overdue letter (I for one am a huge proponent of bringing back the lost art of real letter writing), an email, a blog, or just some words across a nice piece of paper, words which you can decorate with sequins, glue and glitter, maybe even some paint, preferably pink or turquoise…this book should come with an advisory label: Warning, reading the contents of this book might lead one to feel inexplicably drawn to create bright, colorful things, write letters and include happy tokens of love, walk barefoot in fields for no particular reason, bake sweet yummy things for loved ones, and relish in the happiness of just  being. Just being you.

Yes, if I had a daughter, I’d want her to know about this book. I’d share it with her in bite size pieces, from infancy to adulthood, making sure to reinforce its lessons along the way. I do, however, have a son, a magical little being who has led me into dances with my soul I never could have learned the steps to had I not become his mother. And I’ve decided the wisdom of this book is certainly worth sharing with him, too. In bite size pieces, from infancy to the man he will someday become, making sure to reinforce its lessons along the way so he will understand not only women, strong, healthy women, but also how to recognize a kindred spirit in a woman, and how to relate to, appreciate, respect and ultimately make a life with the woman he will someday choose to love beyond measure, for that is the only way. As I write this he is here beside me now, thumbing through the pages of the book, watching his creative mama goddess wrap up this review. (You can guess which chapters were my favorite, right?) He has his own lessons to learn in life, and I shouldn't try to keep him from them. Still, I hope that I can teach him to recognize the true and authentic, the radiant, the type of woman who is real, who is not plastic, but whole, and truly worth pursuing.

And so, if you’d like to start your New Years with a gift to your daughters, mothers, aunts, sisters, friends, sons, or even better, yourself, you can order 73 Lessons Every Goddess Must Know by visiting Leonie at www.GoddessGuidebook.com. Of course, you can also visit www.Amazon.com, but that won’t be nearly as fun as visiting Leonie’s site. There’s much magic and happiness to be found there. So come visit Leonie at www.GoddessGuidebook.com,  and discover the Goddess in you!!!

*I prefered using my own image of the book cover rather than a stock photo. You can see my knitting basket as well as my letter writing basket in the edges of the photo, and my personal artwork on the bookmark that extends from the book. Somehow I think this is more appropriate than a slick, stock photo would have been. And I think Leonie would agree... :-)

So I Am Not Your Idea of a Beautiful Woman?

So I am not your idea of beautiful?

I am...

Soft curves

Braids in a hand-knit cap

Goofy earrings for the fun of it

Tangerine polish on my toes.

You want...

Hard edges

Teased, tortured hair

Diamonds for the expense of it

Acrylic inserts on top of real nails.

So I am not your idea of a woman?

I am...

Independent

Strong as the trees that I hug

Secure in my abilities

Whole, as I am.

You like...

Dependence

Strength is your role

Security is yours to provide

Nothing is whole without you.

So I am not your idea of a beautiful woman?

Well so what?

I am my idea of me.