Hey There, I’m Just Jill, Writer.
As simple yet profound as that.
This is me coming home to what matters — the words.
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JOY Episode 1: I Used To Think I Didn't Have A Story...
What if everything is a story and not having a story is the story? Hmm, back that word-train up, right?!
Listen Time: 2:53 — What if everything is a story and not having a story is the story? Hmm, back that word-train up, right?!
Press play and give this quickie a listen.
If you liked pressing play on this JOY EPISODE, look into the JOY-SUBSCRIPTION where my voice and my words hang out…
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I Define Me & Who I Be
Sometimes words just call to me.
Sometimes words just call to me.
The flow, the beat, the steady drip of ink from my purple pen is a life-force all on its own.
When this happens, this flow, I roll with it. I don’t question or attach to the outcome. I simply exist in the moment, and what pours out, what comes through me, well, this is a gift.
And today, I share that gift with you…
Enjoy
I Define Me & Who I Be
I am an infinite being.
I am brave
I am bold
I am warm
I am kind
I am love
I soar with eagles
Nest with ravens
Spread my wings
And fly, fly, fly.
I am free
Of the rearview lifestyle
Of the planning
The spinning
The never-ending go-go-go
The thoughts
Thoughts
OMG
Thoughts.
Of the judgment
From others
Of others
And of me
By me
I am free
Of the voice that used to speak so
Horribly
Degradingly
Critically
About me.
To me.
Me.
No more am I my own
Worst enemy.
No more a constant roar
Within my own head.
A never-ending-loop
Of dread.
Dread.
Dread.
No more do I put myself
Down
Down
Down.
No more do I wish to run
And hide
From me
Now, I step up.
Step out
Now I know
That I am
Enough
That I am
worthy
That I am
Great.
I dance
and care naught
who watches - me.
I sing and love my
Melody that is
Life
Itself.
Now I love
Me
Whole-hearted-ly.
Now I rejoice
In my high vibe.
As that’s what I be
Energy.
I am the sun,
the moon
The stars
The sky in between.
With just one thought
I set the world on fire.
I turn the tides
I rock the boat
I choose to no longer be
Imprisoned
By what others
May think
Of me.
I create the wave.
I ride it.
I own it.
How incredibly free
Is me.
No more waiting
Wishing
Hoping
Dreaming
Praying
For just the right day.
The right way.
This is the moment.
This is it.
This is mine.
And I flow freely into
Being Me.
No more needing x y z
To fully appreciate
Well, me.
F the Joneses
Adios to the haters
Nothing
No one
Bothers
Me
With just one thought
One moment
One blink of an eye...
I choose me
Simple.
Done.
Free.
What peace
I receive
In knowing
The choice is already
Within me
To be
Simply be
Who I say I
Choose to be
So simple
So complex
So right there within my grasp.
I am energy.
I am small
Yet I am so very great.
Join me
This peace is
Divine
This joy is so
Great
This space
This place
This way of BEING
Is so very addicting-ly
Mine to take.
So come...
Enter
This
Peace
Ful
State
And play...
Stay...
Marinate in your own
BEINGNESS
And discover
The secret
The life
The way
To be
More
To have
Whatever you say is yours
To do
Less
Less
Less
And love your life
And yourself
More
More
So. Much. More.
I define me.
I alone choose my state of BEING
My identity
How I show up
How I splash
And laugh
through this thing called
Life
Earth School
That’s what my guide
Calls this space
This moment
This speck
Of time
Bring on the lessons
Bring on my journey
I am present
I am alive
I am so ready to
Freely Define me.
No shame
No blame
Simply
Me
Being
Me
A
Delightful
Being
Free
So very free.
💜
The Power Of Language And My Crazy Agent, Becks
My phone rings a few hours after an advanced training call ended yesterday.
I’d like to introduce you to someone I’ve had the honor of knowing now for more than a decade. She’s a trip, with a personality that dominates, and this short story will clue you in as to why.
And hey, if you like hearing about her and the crazy she brings to the table, let me know in a comment after you read. If this post generates the hearts and some intriguing conversation, who knows, maybe she’ll be a regular on these pages!
My phone rings a few hours after an advanced training call ended yesterday.
A really amazing event on sales and language patterns that has the power to change how I speak to potential clients. I was still wrapping my brain around the information, looking at my scribbled notes in front of me and not really focused as I distractedly answered. “Hello, this is Jill.”
It’s an agent I freelance writing projects with, a real get-to-the-point kinda gal.
“Hey Jill, I have a client, Hollywood type. Wants a book written ASAP. We need to push it to align with the scheduled release of a film. Can I count on you to start this project immediately?”
Ouch, right to my giving heart.
I closed my notebook and blinked a few times. Jill 1.0 would have fallen all over herself to say yes -- consequences to me be damned.
Jill 2.0 took a deep breath and literally planted both feet on the ground.
“Hi Becks, good to hear from you. How’s Sali?”
“Hi-hi. She’s fifteen.”
“Ahh, I remember that age.”
We both laugh.
Then she’s back to business, and the talk of family is done. “So can I count on you?”
Not waiting on my answer she rattles on, “We can set a call for Sunday with the actor. He’s in Europe now but I know you’re accommodating with whatever time is best for the client.”
Uh, wow. I am? Internal alarm bells were going off. No, Jill 1.0 was.
“Actually, Becks, my schedule’s full until September first.”
“Wait. What?”
“Yep, I’m currently working on another project, plus my own release, then taking 10 days end of month with the Fab Frenchman.”
“You’re sh*tting me.”
God, I love this crazy broad. She gives me so much character insight and dialogue for my fiction work.
I find I can laugh. “Nope, not kidding.”
“Push the other book. Push your vacation. You’re a writer. Your life is a vacation. This is more important. This client is BIG TIME.”
Old me would have been so offended by every word she spoke and started to fume and get seriously defensive.
I laughed. Well, it actually came out more as a snort. You know, the embarrassing kind!
And then the language patterns from that advanced training call kicked in like magic.
“So Becks, what I think I hear you saying is that my other client, also a book contract with a deadline, as you know, isn’t important.”
I totally ignored her references to me, vacation and hubby time.
I will not take offense.
I will not take offense.
I will not ta—
“Well, no, she’s important, too. Damn it all. Can’t you just do them both? Put off your own work for now.”
I actually smile. Ahh, no offense taken. Peace intact. What a beautiful way to be.
“What I think I hear you saying is that it would be okay for me to rush the work of my current client and also rush through my writing with this new potential-”
“Who are you?”
“Excuse me?”
“You usually just say yes!”
“Becks, what I think you’d like me to do is say yes, stress and rush through both of these - I believe you called important projects - and not give 100% ...are you not?”
Silence.
That’s a first. I continue...”Or, what I think you’d truly appreciate from me is that I finish my current project - to my very best ability, which is why I get paid what I do - and then start this new project, fresh and ready...are you not?”
There is the gust of a deep sigh, then Beck’s all but growls out. “Damn it, we can negotiate for more money.”
Uh, I haven't even been offered a contact nor quoted a price yet! Interesting.
“So...what I think I hear you saying is that it’s also time for me to increase my rates...!”
“Hell. We’ll talk about that later!”
“And what I also think I hear you saying is-
Becks cuts in, “-Oh, stop it! You win. You’re right. No rushing. Just write, damn it.”
I laugh. And do a Breakfast Club fist-in-the-air move.
“I don’t like you living on that island. You aren’t so accommodating.”
“Ha! Well, you living in LA makes you mean.”
“I’m a New Yorker. We’re supposed to be mean.”
“But all that LA-chill-vibe hasn’t worn off on you, yet. Do you at least have a sun-kissed glow?”
“Oh, shut up. Don’t book out for September. You’re going to love this guy. He’s bat-sh*t-crazy and funny. Wait... Let’s book a call with him before your vacation?”
“Hmm, Becks, what I hear you saying is you don’t want me to be refreshed and fully committed to this new-“
“F--K! I hate you.”
I laugh. To know Becks is to love Becks.
“September first. Book it. Even if it’s a f-cking Sunday!”
I smile. “Deal. And Becks, get ready to negotiate a new payment structure-”
“Oh, come on!”
“-and new royalties deal! Say hi to Sali for me. Bye, Becks!”
I ended the call, tossed my mobile on the sofa and happy-booty-dance for the next 30 minutes around my cottage.
And that’s the power of immediate implementation of what was learned.
Not my norm but now, my now, after that win, definitely my new way of being.
Want to hear more living-in-the-moment writing tales like this one? Leave me a comment below and tell me so.
And if you’re interested in learning more about that advanced training let me know as it seriously rocks.
And you know me! I’m all about the words, baby!
Do Nothing To Be Everything
Taking a moment, a breath, a pause and being still is one of the best, most valuable gifts you can give yourself.
Taking a moment, a breath, a pause and being still is one of the best, most valuable gifts you can give yourself.
In the past, I never was able to do this. Sit and be. Do nothing. Hell-to-the-no!
The reason, at least for me, circled around my thoughts. That little (yet rather loud, annoying, constantly chattering) voice inside my head.
The one that told me I sucked, wasn’t good enough, wasn’t lovable, didn’t belong, would never amount to anything.
Yeah, she was a nasty b—!
And she kept me trapped. Trapped in doing activities, in spinning plates, in always thinking about something so that I didn’t have to focus on what she was saying to me.
Words of self-hate, self-doubt, shame, blame, fear, and even anger.
Instead, I stuffed that sh*t down. I stayed super busy, yet never really getting anywhere or feeling like I “made it” — whatever that even meant.
I over-worked, over-thought, over-analyzed, over-perfected every-little-thing even as I spun in so many directions, I had trouble just being…
In fact, I didn’t even know what that meant.
Just be.
What the heck is that even..?
To be.
But I tried it, this being thing because I could no longer do-do-do.
I could no longer spin all the plates.
I could not longer hold my breath and think in the span of that moment I ceased to exist…
Because I did.
Exist.
And my body, my mind, my very essence began to shut down on me.
I was sick.
I was miserable.
I was tired.
I was stressed.
And I felt so damn lost…
And it was in this place, this space, that I gave the one thing I feared above death and public speaking — silence — a good, solid try…
And damn if it didn’t shift my very foundation.
Damn if it didn’t open the Pandora’s Box of my soul, my decades of stuffed emotional baggage, my raging self-hatred, and allow me to finally…
Be. Free.
This little jam, a slice of poetry, is just one creative spark that has come from now being able to sit with me, quietly and simply be…
Read. Enjoy. And lean into what the thought of just being brings up in you… then leave me a comment below. Share if silence freaks you out as it once did me…
Because now, doing nothing, sitting in a moment of silence…
And just being…
Well, that’s everything…
💜
Do Nothing
To Be Everything
What you say?
Do nothing.
Nada.
Zip.
Just BE
60 Seconds
Okay. Yep. Fine.
How hard can it be?
Ready
Set
Breath in.
Breath out.
Allow
The silence
To
Penetrate.
One. Two. Three.
Ah pesky thoughts
Arrive immediately
To drag you in
To pull you deep.
What stories
Hold you back
From simply stopping
That do-do-do clock
What thoughts spin in your head
Causing that tapping of your foot
Do nothing
Just BE
How hard can it...?
Ten seconds.
Breath in.
Breath out.
All. Is. Well.
Where is the itch to move
Coming from?
Why is the need to check
Email
Texts
Something!
Swirling unchecked within...
Simply Be.
Still
Silent
Present
For just a few more seconds.
Twenty seconds...
Breath in.
Breath out.
All. Is. Fine.
It’s not a life
Sentence
And yet time
Stands
Still
How hard can it BE
To find peace
To just be.
Half Way There...
All. Is. Divine.
Breath in.
Breath out.
You are enough.
Let go of the thoughts
They rush in like high tide
No cursing
the ebb and flow.
No judging the waves
As they crash against the shore of you.
It’s only 60 seconds of
BEingness
Of you
Sitting with you
Getting comfy with you.
How. Hard. Can. It. Be?
Forty seconds.
Breath In.
Breath Out.
Feel the flood of
Hmm...
What is that...?
Peace
Joy
Love
Give it a name.
Dive into that feeling.
Be
In this moment.
Present
Silent
Still
Fifty seconds
Breath in.
Breath out.
All. Is. Right.
Finally...
Letting go...
A turning of the tide
A flowing with the wave.
Ride it girl
Or guy.
Ride it
As it’s yours to own
Yours to claim
Yours to enjoy.
When you let go
When you allow
When you simply flow.
Imagine all that...
Can be
In just 60 seconds
Imagine all that’s possible...
In just a moment.
How. Hard. Can. It. Be...
To simply BE.
Breath In.
Peace out.
One Hour Does Have The Power To
Open Doors & Transform Your Life
What If I Gave Up The Struggle...?
I spent so much of my life living from this place of hard. Everything was hard, even when it wasn’t.
I spent so much of my life living from this place of hard.
Everything was hard, even when it wasn’t.
See, I thought I needed a story, a problem…a bit of drama even. Perhaps, for some reason, I thought that would be the thing that made me interesting.
Little did I know, until recently, that I am bloody interesting all on my own!
(And, I’m not even a Brit!)
So that said, this string of words came free-flowing from my beingness recently.
And, I felt called to share them with you as they just may resonate as you walk this path called life.
💜
What if I gave up the struggle?
Would the world end?
Sometimes it feels so.
But that’s silly...right?
Are we really here to struggle?
Are we really taught to believe that life is hard?
Are we conditioned from birth to worry, fear, stress...complicate life?
Or is it a choice…?
That was my issue
if I had to pick only one.
I, Jill R. Stevens, complicated
e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g.
[Important clarity here...in the past!]
And it was bloody exhausting.
And no, I’m not a Brit, but for some reason, it seems better to write the word “bloody” than to type out “it’s f—king exhausting”.
But it is — bloody, f—king exhausting.
To worry about what others think if I drop the F-bomb.
To think about what I want to be when I grow up, at 45+/- years of age. I mean, seriously.
To be another clique in the world of mid-life-crisis.
But here’s what I recently realized.
I’m not alone in this way of thinking.
I’m not unique or special in my thoughts.
It seems to be a common thread that connects us.
This disconnect, this people-pleasing, this joyless existence because we feel we’re supposed to live that way.
By another’s standards, for another, doing what we should because… well, it’s what we know, what we’ve been taught, what we’ve seen.
When did we stop being true?
Stop being real.
Start giving more f—ks about what others think
Than what is
Our truth.
Because the cost of this self-perpetuated struggle is endless
It’s worry
It’s fear
It’s sleepless nights
It’s dis-ease
Which leads to disease in the body.
It’s broken relationships
Judgy behavior
Lost moments
Holding in the words
Replaying over
and over
and bloody over again
what we
Shoulda
Coulda
Woulda
Said
had we only had a second to think,
to be…
Hmm, to be.
Now that’s the drug of choice
But I jump ahead
Into a calm sea of delicious peace
That I, frankly, never want to stop bathing in.
A place so radiant
So fulfilling
So universally true
That nothing can penetrate the
Crystalline walls
Of me.
It’s a space of utter and complete power
A way of being
That means stopping the madness
The spin
The keeping up
With what exactly?
The search for more.
For better
Is done.
And all that is left is a
Path within
A journey
To the core
Of beingness.
It’s like a big-O
the secret sauce.
The cosmic oneness
has been so waiting
for us to claim
To get
To experience
To hold in the palm of our…
Essence.
But to get it
To swim in that delirious sea
Is to give it all up.
The stories
The judgments
The fears
The doubts
The worry
The thoughts
That hold you hostage in the night
And the light of the brightest day.
What if you could give it all up?
The struggle?
What if we were taught differently and programmed to believe 100% possible, 100% of the time?
But there you have it - another faulty scenario where blame is placed at the foot of our teachers, our parents and our environment that indoctrinates us from day one.
I remember being a child watching Oprah Winfrey and all the sob-stories of childhood, of life -- and I mean no disrespect. But literally, that’s what I experienced, this sharing and bearing of one’s soul - to millions - with tears and tissues…
And my perspective, stories don’t just tell, they sell.
They sell us on what we believe, what we choose to feel and what we understand to be true.
But what is truth?
What is even real?
What if all of it, all of this, all of everything, is simply that -- a story?
...And looking back, as I absorbed those moments with my then young eyes,
wasn’t there a lack of personal responsibility?
That was my interpretation and thus became a way of being I emulated.
Ah, influence.
A perpetuating of the story by constantly reliving the depths of despair, the highs and the lows, the horrors, the drama, the pain of it all.
Or the intense pleasure of it.
And the sudden absence
Of that heady feeling
And the search for more
Like the most addicting of drugs.
Love
With strings.
Or that which we think is love…
Cue heartache
Heartbreak
The perfect rainy-day Lifetime movie.
The epic you complete me moment
The sinking of our ship,
the rising of frigid waters,
The loss of what could have been
—Jack.
Instead of seeing every single experience in life,
as life.
As for my betterment,
period.
As the journey,
neither good nor bad,
simply is.
To now,
suddenly,
not giving meaning to things
is so freeing.
To be vulnerable and open yet not to place value or the validation of me on the shoulders of another’s reaction, thought, judgment…
That’s true peace.
And for me the story, the journey was one of…
Finding my perfectly imperfect self…
More on that for another day...
Are You Stuck At Second Best?
Do What You Love Is Not A Cliché If It Works
I recently heard that more than 80% of people spend their life, or at least the majority of their life, doing what they are second-best at.
Do What You Love Is Not A Cliché If It Works
I recently heard that more than 80% of people spend their life, or at least the majority of their life, doing what they are second-best at.
Stop and think about that for a moment.
Is that you?
Is there something you are just amazing at or totally love to do but were told to get a real job, focus on your education so you can have a profession that will pay to fall back on or some other such story?
What is the one thing you are amazing at?
For me, it’s writing.
Hands down.
I knew from early on it was a gift and when I’m in the zone or flow, it’s not me. It’s words that come through me and are placed just right on paper (or screen) to either easily explain or share a story with meaning.
When I write, time doesn’t matter. In the blink of an eye, hours can disappear and I can forget to eat, drink or even see people around me.
When I write, there are stolen moments in the early morning hours when it seems to me everyone is sound asleep and I’m just typing away, creating greatness.
And there are others when I can be surrounded by espresso machines, laughter and the cha-ching of a bookstore/coffeeshop cash register.
Yet, for those who know me, they probably think that teaching, coaching, mentoring is my calling...and it is. But it’s not my first calling.
My second-best thing is teaching.
Don’t get me wrong, I still love it.
I’m good at it.
I impact and make a difference and simply adore children, teens…people.
I feel like I’m here to help other people’s kids, one of the reasons I never had my own.
But if you told me to pick right now…
Well, I’d close my eyes and in the blink of an eye, say writing.
Wow, that’s a powerful exercise to try.
Do it now… simply close your eyes and ask yourself - what is your number one thing?
Your calling…
Your dharma.
And see what pops up. Don’t question it, just roll with it.
For me, writing is primary. It’s my number one thang...
...And here’s why.
With my words, I can teach. With my stories, I can share ideas. With my thoughts, I can create worlds and lessons and impart messages that readers young and old can take something from.
So in writing, I am still a teacher, mentor or coach. It’s the way I am whole, complete…fully me.
Now, I can share that another thing I happen to do, that brings in money, for which I am very grateful, is property management.
This started when my Fabulous Frenchman and I discovered each other. While I was, guess what?! Taking a break from teaching to go have a writing holiday on a tropical island.
But back to the third thing I do.
Property Management.
Ah, yeah. No. Not my calling by a long shot.
Can I do it? Yes.
Paperwork and leases, managing tenants and repairs and taking phone calls, overseeing maintenance needs, filing insurance docs and taxes while keeping the books straight…
Ah yeah, forehead meets hard wooden desk with a bang.
If that was ALL I did, oh boy, my middle name would be MISERABLE. And pronounced with l’accent!
[i.e. French accent]
I can do it, and well, but it costs me...
...it drains me.
Please don’t get me wrong. I am grateful I am in a place to do it, profit from it, enjoy a certain lifestyle from it, however, if it was my solo work existence...just no.
So, what about you?
Are you doing your second best as your primary, daily task… simply to pay the bills? Because you have a mortgage and kids...and hey, I get it.
But give this some thought.
Is what you get up and do each day something that fills you with joy or something that drains you extensively?
Leave a comment below and let me know.
Why does this matter?
What we do, our children see and oftentimes model.
Or we even encourage the “safe” path or that which we perceive as such…
But seriously, do you want your son or daughter to be stuck doing their second-best their entire life…?
Do you want to be stuck...in a job you despise, doing work that doesn’t fulfill you?
Or, instead, waking up with JOY and excitement most, if not every morning, and being in a state of flow because they...you… are doing what you are meant to do…?
Well, that’s heaven on earth, no?
And isn’t living your life your way the point...?
Photo Credit: Eutah Mizushima @eutahm
A Childhood Dream — A Writer’s Cottage By The Sea
I never told anyone I had this dream. I thought it was simply a childhood fantasy, a fairytale — something I’d grow out of.
I never told anyone I had this dream. I thought it was simply a childhood fantasy, a fairytale — something I’d grow out of.
But I didn’t realize until one day, in my late 30s, sharing this “secret” of mine with my Fabulous Frenchman, that this dream-o-mine had never died.
It has simply laid dormant under the surface of me. For decades. Like a mini volcano I just kind of ignored because really what are the chances of it becoming real and erupting onto the page of my life..?
I mean, I’d spent childhood blending in, working hard to be seen and not heard, because that’s what I thought others wanted...not because I was told to be that way.
Then, because of my own headspace, struggling not to even be seen.
Sometimes I’d even work to not breathe,
as when you cease to breathe
you cease to exist.
Fascinating, no?
Now, well, I take up space.
Lots and lots of space.
In life, on the ether-webs,
energetically
and on the pages of life.
But back to that sharing of me…[gasp, imagine what’s possible].
By giving verbal space to that childhood dream, it became my reality, thanks to this amazing man who went behind my back and started to dig, research and discover…
And find that ultimate thing that would
Simply make me happy.
Who f-ing does that..?
But I jump ahead here because first you must know the dream, mustn’t you?
My childhood dream was
A little cottage,
on a hill,
with secret gardens,
overlooking the sea
where I sat all day and wrote.
Simple yet starkly huge.
Enormous.
And two things came to pass…
One, my dream, yep, is my new reality. I sit here now in my 100+ year old, little sea-side cottage on a hill, surrounded by what will one day be my secret gardens, listening to the song of the tree frogs as the wind filters through the leaves of the 40+ year old seagrape tree out front, awaiting the glow of the rising sun where I will soon see…
The endless, pristine, often turbulent and sometimes smooth-as-glass sea.
And the second thing…
The action that was the drive behind my childhood dream…
a place,
a sanctuary,
a space that is me,
where I sit all day to write...
Well, it’s been mine for nearing two years now -- minus the ebb and flow of hammers and endless stirring up of man-made dust, it’s unfolding before me.
My childhood vision…
And yet, the person I was being was not the one I dreamt I’d find upon stepping fully into that childhood dream…
The one who sat overlooking the sea and wrote all day…
She didn’t come out to play.
She didn’t take up her purple-inked-arms and type away her heart, her soul, her pain, her play -- until now.
And that’s pause-worthy.
I mean seriously, how often in life do we strive to attain, to reach the pinnacle only to find it not what we thought, not the fulfillment we so thought it would be..? Not the happy place.
Gosh, I could write that story.
Well, sh*t I am...
That is my story.
Up till now.
That is this story.
Because just like my little 100-year-old cottage by the sea,
I too have unfolded…
I too have been under, what feels like
endless construction…
And it’s just now...that the me of today is stepping into the possibility of all that is.
Because until now...
I hid myself away.
I buried myself in disarray.
I locked the part of me that was joyful and bubbly away.
And not even the realization of the very reality of the thing I thought was forever out of reach, was simply a fantasy in the mind’s eye of a wee lass, who couldn’t shake off the
drama,
melancholy,
sadness
that had taken up residence within me…
Brought that truest, organic me out to play.
The problem was me.
Not me as in I’m broken,
even though that’s so what I thought.
Not me as in I need to be fixed,
even though that’s what the Fabulous Frenchman thought.
[Bless him, he knew not how destructive that was for us both.]
Not me as in another book,
self-help course,
podcast to plug into,
course to buy,
guru to follow,
oh, f--k me, more therapy maybe…
Nah, another bit of chocolate (or two) will do…
Could help me.
And it took the culmination of someone,
this man,
being nice to me,
like that’s shocking in and of itself.
“A nice man.”
“A man being nice to me.”
With me.
Me.
Him actually loving me unconditionally-fully-whole-y,
the me of all my pieces
the one I’d hidden away in different ornate wooden boxes within my mind
over the years…
The one I’d open up on the written page,
in the cloak of night,
with purple pen in hand…
The comforting step of another
Owning my words
Reaping the spot—
Light.
But to truly open..
Fully step out or in
Hmm, no, never as me.
Never free.
And yet, here was proof,
In your face,
Cottage on a hill
Overlooking the sea
Okay, the secret gardens are to come.
But the table is there,
The chair is present
The holding of space is simply awaiting me.
My own Emily Dickenson moment
Minutes the harsh tundra of Mass—
—achussetts.
That he
Could love me
Find me so worthy
To grasp that was too much.
Everything.
Nothing.
And,
Left me in pieces.
It was the culmination
Of being on a five-square-mile island,
in the middle of a tropical sea,
sitting in a pile of dust like an Irish fairy
or Disney Princess,
minus the ballgown
or torn garb of a bygone era,
while the animals of my existence,
both real and within,
came out to play.
It was being locked with me, myself and I
day in and day out,
no longer immersed in the hustle of a
work-till-your-eyeballs-bleed mentality.
Where it’s so easy to not feel, not sink into the one thing that matters.
The only thing that finally allowed me to stop
To rest in what is
To enjoy this moment I see before me
out the new windows of my little cottage
Overlooking...
The dawning of a new day…
The glow of pinks,
of purples,
of oranges
like ribbons of light streaming from the best package ever.
Life.
A gift in all
It’s the blue and white that plays peak-a-boo in the sky
As night rolls effortlessly into day.
It’s the rustle and awakening
From within
And without…
As the roosters crow
The hens’ song cackles
And the tree frogs retiring to
— silence.
It’s the ease of it all.
The flow.
The constant.
The absence of stress.
The beingness of all that is.
So while manifesting the dream of my little cottage, on a hill, with secret gardens where I sit and write all day was only part of the equation.
As I had to show up
To be
The me
Who can move mountains with my words
Who can touch a soul’s soul with the lyrical flow
Who is simply the conduit.
I had to get out of my own head
My own way
And own all parts of me.
No longer handing them off to be fixed
Like shattered bits from a once perfectly formed flowerpot.
It was awakening to the notion that I ain’t f--king broken and I don’t need to be fixed.
It’s realizing I was made whole,
Perfectly imperfect
And owning the choices
The beingness of my former self
That gave away my power to another.
And in calling those pieces of me home
And now sitting whole
Deliciously
Okay in my own skin
For the first time in 40 years…
I say bring it.
The dreams
The words
The flow.
For I’m out of my proverbial closet.
I’m being me.
The only way I can truly be.
And enjoy all that is.
The childhood dream of me
The Fab Frenchman who unwavers beside me
The gift that is my superpower
The divine dharma that rests
Just within the palm of my hand.
Setting me free.
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Shaking Off The Copycat Way Of Being
I used to be a copycat in a way.
I used to be a copycat in a way.
It was more than a fake-it-till-you-make-it way of being. It was the unheard cry of one who didn’t know herself, her role, her place, how she fit into this big, mad world.
I’d buy a black “business suit” - you know the cut blazer and trousers, toss in a nice scarf for a bit of color and to keep me warm. And that’s how I’d show up at events. Add some heeled boots, ‘cause well, I never did learn how to walk in heels. And bam, I’d look the part.
Oh and of course drop the money on a blow-out because hot damn, good hair matters… especially when I never figured out the whole make-up thing. A swipe of mascara and good to go…
Pretending to be a successful me.
A Business Version of Me.
The me that could go places, because when people saw me, they’d KNOW I had it together…
I mean, seriously, who doesn’t have their sh*t together when dressed “correctly”, right?
I did the same with workout clothes.
Get me some yoga threads, some pants that will rock the pilates reformer and even if I don’t make class or give my all, I’ll still “look” like I know what I’m doing.
I did this with classes and learning, systems and tech, shiny-object to shiny-flipping-object until so many guru voices rattled in my head they even competed with my own f-ed up monkey chatter.
Why can’t you rock this?
Why can’t you figure this out?
Just do more.
Just learn from him.
What about her?
What’s wrong with you anyway?
Get a coach.
Do another program.
Follow the damn steps.
Why isn’t this working?
Damn, am I that broken?
Do I need therapy…?
I did this with my work and creating a brand — a website.
Oh, doesn’t Marie so-and-so’s site look divine.
Yep, she’s got an eye.
Her design team, spot on.
I can make some tweaks and get that looking similar but just different enough to kind of be me… whatever me looks like.
But who am I even?
What am I even doing online?
What am I even selling?
Why am I here?
Who’s gonna listen?
And what the heck is wrong that I think I can take up space..?
Time to read another book and sink into some more Self Help Magic cause that sh*t wears off if you’re not paying attention.
Maybe a podcast?
Another system?
Oh look at that new platform for classes!
‘Founding member you say…’
I’ll wait for launch day.
Put me on hold...again.
Because who am I anyway.
I sure as heck don’t know.
I once would lay awake and wonder how I got into this mess…
Why is he,
the one who lays beside me,
so bloody confident,
so secure, so sure…
His absolute knowing of he makes me feel even more confused
More lacking
More lost
More afraid that this black hole might become suffocating.
I kept running toward something, anything—
and still I never found me.
I made myself ill, mad, frenzied and so incredibly lost.
Tired was the me
even after eight hours of sleep.
And that need to discover,
to uncover,
to figure ME out
lead me to the here and now.
And I thank all that IS because without it,
this journey into me,
well, I’d still be that
copycat version of me.
Posting random motivational quotes, ACTING the part of a put-together woman with Insta-fake goodness about my world while inside screaming “someone please see the real me that’s slowing coming apart at the seams.”
Now there was no guru to chase, no first place to win, no steps to the top, no set path to “greatness”. And THAT nearly undid me. Which was the point…
Instead, I had to sit with me.
Instead, I had to get cozy with me.
Instead, I had to stop running away—
From my life
From myself
From my past
From my present
From my future
From my love
of me.
I had to stop.
I had to BE.
WTF is that anyway..?
BE
was my brain’s reaction.
And man, did I want to shout that at times, but when I paused…
When I stopped
When I slowed down
When I sat with myself
When I took a breath
Holy sh*t did I uncover something profound.
I didn’t like me.
I didn’t love me.
I didn’t want to be around me.
And well, that’s a concern as there was no escaping me.
All the running in the world was never going to get me away from what I hated, what I didn’t value—
myself.
My wake up call was realizing I didn’t like me.
My wake up call was realizing I wasn’t grateful for all I had because I felt I deserved none of it.
Because I was so NOT worth it. So not worthy.
I had to strip myself down, sit with my own damn self and realize I didn’t like me.
I had to stop putting on a brave face, stop pretending I had it all together and acknowledge that my self-esteem account didn’t even have a penny left in its bank.
I was on empty.
And it showed in my struggling marriage.
It showed in the way I cast blame.
It showed in how I just wanted to be heard—
Oh poor, victim was me.
It showed in my deep, dark depression.
It showed in the fake-ass smile I gave to the world
and the sadness I could no longer hide
that constantly brought tears to my eyes.
It showed up in my health, my gut, my dangerously low iron.
It was the universe saying, really?
You don’t want to live…
You really feel that way?
You really don’t like you, the you made perfectly imperfect just as intended..?
Well, let’s drain you of that heavy metal—
the iron you need to survive and see if you don’t wake the f-up!
And thankful, I woke up.
I woke up and came to life again.
I woke up and started to FEEL and it hurt at times.
I woke up and realized I WANT to love myself.
I DO love myself.
I learned how to add not just pennies to my self-worth account but thick, solid, heavy-as-hell GOLD bars each and every day, times three.
I learned how to BE with myself.
The hardest and most rewarding of lessons.
I learned silence
And that lead me to peace.
And ease.
And flow.
And allowing.
And grace.
And forgiveness.
And joy.
Were there bumps along the pathway?
Absolutely.
But a taste of that peace,
after living in such a desolate,
constantly moving,
trying to escape myself hell,
Well, that taste of peace was…is divine.
That peace was EPIC.
That peace was MINE.
And I opened my arms, my heart, my soul to it wide—
And stepped forward in faith.
I let it be easy.
I let myself love me… and the world, my world, righted itself… one degree at a time.
💜
Photo Credit: Markus Spiske @markusspiske
The Gift Of Clarity
It’s funny how I never saw myself as a poet yet I’ve been creating word-play beyond that of stories for decades now.
It’s funny how I never saw myself as a poet yet I’ve been creating word-play beyond that of stories for decades now.
It started with the way I’d chat with animals in the pine forest near my New England early-childhood home.
I found creatures to be the best audience — ever.
Even better than my dog, who had a temper that equaled mine, or the inanimate attention of my stuffed animal baby collection.
See, the animals, they gave me immediate feedback with cocked heads and twinkling eyes. Ah, yeah, their eyes twinkled, sparkled and squinted based on my wordplay!
So now, it’s past time to allow human eyes to shine in the light of these words that flow so freely from within.
This little ditty is all about growth and the gift that is clarity. Enjoy!
I Am A Clarity Seeker
You could say I’ve always been seeking.
I’ve known,
since early on,
that there was a reason I was here.
Here on this earth.
Here at this time.
Here for a purpose.
I’ve listened to speakers
I’ve read the books
I’ve gone to conferences
I’ve been pumped-up for a day, a weekend
I’ve been motivated, sure
I’ve been inspired, absolutely
But I’m always left wondering
What am I missing…?
What’s wrong with me…?
Why isn’t this - what I have - enough?
I’ve gotten so lost in my head,
Questioning every - little - thing.
Looking for coincidences
In every - little - thing.
Struggling
And succeeding at this thing called
manifesting.
Only to struggle again.
Lack seems to follow me.
Failure is often
my middle name.
Celebrate, you say.
What?
How?
When?
It’s never enough…
Time is passing me by and
Still there is something missing
A piece of the puzzle that is me.
Why is this so hard?
This trip around the sun.
Is it me?
It makes me sad,
Angry,
Unhappy
Even when really,
from the outside,
I have a great life.
I should be happy.
I should be content.
I should feel like
THIS
IS
ENOUGH.
So then,
Why am I so lost..?
So unhappy..?
Always searching for something…
An answer?
More money?
A better relationship?
To be more like so-and-so…
To discover my purpose
My reason for being
Here
Now.
Damn it, what is my path?
There are no answers
to fill this gap,
this ache,
this hole
that is me.
Sometimes I just feel so damn lost.
Sometimes I just want to stop.
To stop the thoughts
End the madness.
To stop the search for meaning
To demand SOMEBODY listen to me.
Why am I even here...?
Am I even good enough...?
Maybe if I scream loud enough into the noise -
That is my mind -
Someone will hear my call
My cry
My desire
To understand
Who am I
Even?
What am I
Really
Doing here?
Why am I
So lost
So confused
So desperate
To understand.
Understand what?
Something just out of my grasp
But damn it,
I know it’s there.
In my bones,
I know there is more.
I know
I know
I know
Yet, I understand nothing.
I know there is
More than 9-to-5
More than rinse and repeat
More than this struggle
More than the fake news talk.
The water cooler gossip.
The work.
Retire
Die
Path
that feels like such a
lie.
I know in my bones
There are answers to all that I seek.
There is a clarity,
A peace.
That I am lacking
That I so desire
That I continue to search for.
And damn it,
I will no longer apologize for
Seeking
Clarity.
I will no longer apologize for
Being me.
I will no longer hide
Who I am
For I a —
Me.
And this desire, this clarity seeking,
led me to this moment.
This path
This place
This time.
Like the poet Frost said best,
“Two roads...
One less traveled…”
I am so ready to
Walk the path
Less traveled
And discover
All the Clarity I Seek.
Here I am
A place I found Me
A place for Clarity Seekers
A place to Transform
A place to simply BE.
💜
Photo Credit: Elijah Hiett @elijahdhiett
AYNI: How Living From The Law Of Reciprocity Changed My Life
There are certain principles in life that I have found, once learned, have shifted every-single-thing in my life.
There are certain principles in life that I have found, once learned, have shifted every-single-thing in my life.
The first was gratitude. And not just like making lists of thinks I’m thankful for, but really sinking into how it feels to be grateful.
The second was I AM Journaling. As a writer, I love this, but as a human being, it’s all but a requirement to live the most amazing life.
The third was discovering my path to true inner peace.
And the fourth, well, I want to share story time on this one today.
The fourth life-altering principle that changed everything for me was this little (but huge) thing called AYNI.
First, I must define AYNI, mustn’t I? Most people have no clue what this word even is, let alone how to spell it.
And, that was me, the first time I heard it mentioned.
AYNI is the law of reciprocity.
I love this description from a site called Inka-World which you can read here. (Don’t worry, it will open in a new window so you won’t lose your place.)
Ayni describes the only commandment of the Inka religion that the Indians of the Andes know and keep until this day. This is a kind of cosmic law that is both part of everyday life as well as part of a supernatural order.
Ayni is a concept with many facets, which, simply put, amounts to the following: If you give something, you have the right to receive something. And when you receive something, you have the obligation to give something back.
Ayni describes a reality that seeks to remind people of their unique abilities as co-creators and transformers of their world. Ayni is about sharing so that everyone is provided with what he or she needs; it concerns the sharing of knowledge and wisdom so humanity may develop and harmony may be strengthened. It ultimately refers to a form of equality.
If it is applied in human relationships, groups, or systems, for example, Ayni can create an intentional force field that opens up the possibility for positive change, synchronicities or even miracles.
A detailed description of Ayni can be found on this website under Ayni – The force of reciprocity.
Credit: https://inka-world.com/en/glossary/en_ayni/
I’d read that a second time, as it’s powerful when you allow it to sink in.
See, when I started practicing AYNI as a way of beingness, well, things began to align like dominos on a scarred wooden table in the Little Havana heat.
I love watching little old men, wearing their hats, play dominos together with a passion that rivals a fight-to-the-death passion.
I think of AYNI as a WAVE.
Much like a glorious blue-green wave on a Cuban beach.
Or the fragrant, tropical breeze felt but not seen with the human eye; the complexity of those liquid air molecules.
I think of myself (my thoughts, beliefs, feelings, intentions, etc.) as a WAVE OF POTENTIAL.
Unlike that tropical wave or breeze, I have the untapped power to CHOOSE how to direct this WAVE.
Think about that for a moment.
A wave of potential.
Untapped power.
Choice.
Hmmm, sounds absolutely glorious. . .like a delicious chocolate lava cake just awaiting the slide of my fork into its gooey center and the eruption of sugary delight on the tip of my tongue.
But back to this untapped, powerful wave of potential and one’s ability to choose the direction of its flow.
Now in doing so, asserting choice, I am sending waves outward that are affecting others. Affecting everything on some or many levels. Most of them completely unknown to me.
Remember that point. Unknown.
Now the waves of potential, upon touching others, ripple. You’ve experienced this if you’ve tossed more than one rock in a pond or puddle of water. One stop and the ripple happens outward in a glorious circle outward.
Can you see it?
But, when you toss a second stone, before the first wave has dispersed, well, those two movements meet and create new joint-ripples. And a new pattern emerges, spreading outward and some also returning to the pitcher. You.
Imagine the endless possibilities. Of stones tossed and ripples created.
Now those stones are the thoughts, beliefs, feelings, and intentions every-single-human-being has.
Those get tossed like unseen rocks into the atmosphere of life.
And waves are created.
And when they meet other ripples from the waves of other people, new patterns emerge.
And some of those ripples return to the tosser of the stone - or thought, belief, feeling, and intention holder. Some of ripples from the energy you sent out and some from the output of another.
So, imagine if a stone is anger, tossed hard into the puddle of life.
There’s the impact, a splash and an instant effect, and there’s the lasting ripples that rock of anger ripples out.
Toss in a stone of love, and new ripples happen, some meeting that anger ripple and leveling it out.
Almost a cancelation of ripples.
But when there are infinite stones of feelings, thoughts, beliefs, and intentions being tossed each nano-second by an infinite number of human arms. . . well, that’s some powerful current created, is it not?
And to me it shows how interconnected we actually are.
We may not see these ripples, but we feel them. Powerfully.
So, what I have realized is how hard or soft one tosses out their stone in the shape of a feeling or thought greatly impacts the WAVES that are coming back to toward me from. . .
From that which I put out
From that which others around me put out
And even, from those — collectively — I don’t even know or have contact with.
And the RIPPLE effect I feel, receive, experience from those lapping ripples is intense, powerful and something I am discovering how to accept or reject.
This starts to touch one how much I tend to feel as an empathic individuals. And let’s just sum it up by saying this — I feel exponentially! Always have. Always will. It’s who I am.
And in discovering AYNI, inner peace and deepening gratitude, I now have new tools on how to protect myself, honor myself, and the ability to choose that which I allow in. I’m still a work in progress on this topic, but man, what a beautiful opening. But being an empath is a topic for another day.
Right here and now, I want to dive into the power of AYNI as it really is life-altering, once grasped.
Understanding the principle of AYNI, this is POWERFUL.
Knowing this FULLY, well, that’s the goal. . .
And as I said above, I’m still a work in progress...
But today, I want to share a story of a deepening sense of knowing I am experiencing (read into that what you may) and how AYNI has begun to play an extremely important role in my everyday existence.
To do. . .[clearing of throat]. . . Let Story Time Begin
Recently I took an “AHH-ME Time Break” in Florida and mixed it with down-time and work. It was during my trip back to the islands, from the Florida Keys to Miami to St. Maarten, that things got interesting.
The engine purrs and almost demands I speed around the Grampa in front of me. I mean it is my last few minutes in this beauty. A rented Maserati, an upgrade at no extra charge...thank you. Universe.Yep, I like cars...
But he’s cute, Grampa. His hands gripping 10 and 2, his silver head encased in a hat like my Gramps once wore.
So I don't. Race on. I simply drive my rented beast at ten miles an hour for my very last mile, and eventually hand her off to the rental agency.
It's been a crazy morning of traffic and accidents and heavy rain. A one-hour drive easily pushed past two because of rain showers and accidents on the Turnpike, but I’m good.
I wave goodbye to Lisa, my check-out girl, and pat the hood of the glossy, black speed-demon I very much enjoyed driving the last few days... and I’m off, towing two suitcases, and balancing too much stuff.
The old me would have raced against the clock, cell phone in hand, constantly time-checking.
Jill 2.0 simply pressed play again to continue Jim Fortin’s podcast on inner peace (ha!) as I rolled my two bags inside without a care in the world.
Two escalators and a fun balancing act on one. . .
Then a tram ride connecting the rental cars to the terminals gave me the time to change into sneakers from my Keys flip flops, have a quick smile and pleasant conversation with a gentleman. He was a cutie who thought he’d be able to bring onboard a bottle of delicious wine with his carry-on. His smile was charming, so. . . possibly?
As we parted ways, him helping me haul my suitcases off the tram first, I plugged back into my podcast and kept smiling.
Soon I wheeled up to the kiosk for baggage check-in.
The first machine had a flare up mid-helping-me, so I realigned my bags and simply moved on to a new one.
No foot stomping, no muttering under my breath, no eye-roll to an airline employee or like-minded customer.
I simply smiled and with as much gracefulness as I could, weighed down as I was, moved to the next available machine while making faces at a cute baby in a stroller all but blocking my path. I easily managed because I chose to.
I completed my transaction after 3 tries on the new machine, and experienced no hike in blood pressure.
The reward for my patience? No charge for my second checked bag. WIN!
I did pause for a moment to look at the very long line for checked-bag hand-off.
But before the possibility of an old Jill 1.0 response like “Yeah, right” or a pissed-off time check could happen, an American Airlines employee was beside me asking, “Where ya headed?”
I shared my destination with a smile and asked if that was my line.
“Oh, that’s not your line, honey. You’re down there.”
I was directed down the counter a bit.
No line.
No waiting.
Bags taken.
Not overweight. Really? Nope.
No extra charges because the kiosk forgot..? Nope.
Ahh, I CHOOSE to receive these gifts. And sent a ripple of thank you into the air conditioned atmosphere.
Jim’s podcast finishes as I move past one checkpoint to be waved to the pre-TSA line of two people. I sail right through and then the random thing happens.
An alarm.
I start to pat myself down, thinking, “Oops.”
But the TSA agent says, “Random security check. Ma’am, wait right here,” and resets his counter.
Well, that’s never happened to me before.
Then he shouts over his shoulder, “FEMALE PAT DOWN!”
And well, I laugh, because that’s something you just don’t hear every day.
His response to my unwitting, didn’t-realize-I-said-it-out-loud joke is “Unless you work in an airport.”
Carlos, the TSA shouter, and I chat it up about how many pat downs he averages in a shift.
We both watch as an older gentleman tries unsuccessfully to walk himself and two wiggling, adorable beasts through the scanner without setting off alarms. Ah, no luck times two.
I raise an eyebrow at Carlos and after his nod, I offer to help. I find myself holding a drop-kick-dog (said with love), getting licked to death by Pup One as the doggy-dad and Pup Two go through security.
I’m suddenly the dog wrangler and have Pup Two, the squirmer in my arms, as doggy-dad smiles at me, grabs Pup One and heads back through security.
I realize I still haven’t checked the time and have no clue if I’m cutting it close or good to keep getting puppy love.
Not in my control, so I enjoy puppy time.
As my Frenchman would say, cheap entertainment, once it’s all said and done.
The ten-minute wait flies by with smiles, laughter, and people watching, plus some great Carlos stories of confiscated goodies (ice pick, anyone?!), without a tapping of my foot or an impatient thought.
Carlos apologized for the ten minute wait as I was led away. . . I smiled at him and wished him a pleasant day of repeating lines and confiscating goods while encouraging him to count how many pat downs were delivered on his shift.
I receive my friendly pat down from, um, Patty (no, didn't make that up) and chat about her 16-year-old who’s into dance.
Then I’m off to grab my bags that have been in everyone’s way, but no one seemed to mind, and finally enter the terminal to see that my gate is the last one all the way to the right…sweet, exercise!
Time check as the big wall clock is right in front of me. 12:15. I have just under an hour till take-off.
How brilliant. After all that.
Now, you’d think the story ends there as the ripple effects of my good and at times helpful nature allowed me to receive no lines and free luggage check-in, while meeting nice people, but nope, it’s just starting.
Even after my crazy drive into the airport of dodging accidents, traffic, heavy rain drops and crazy-ass drivers, while getting my groove on to the Transform Your Life From the Inside Out podcast interview with James Wedmore, I still had time to buy water, use the restroom, and gift a fabulous lady, Maggie, some of my Godiva.
Not because I didn’t want it.
Not because I couldn’t have eaten it on my flight.
Simply because I saw her.
While others walked around her in the restroom, I stopped and said “hello” and “thank you”.
I stopped and asked her if she liked chocolate. She did. So I gave her what I had. She accepted it with an amazed smile.
Basically, I saw her work, her heart, and stopped to acknowledge her.
Plus, she looked like she could use it! I mean, what woman doesn't love chocolate…?!?
Then I book it to my gate, walk right onto the plane, and get settled in my seat beside an older man who’s wringing his hands with what I interpret to be nerves.
He reminds me of my own Grandfather, second time today, and the man I could have easily zoomed around earlier in my rented Maserati.
I smile at him and ask if he minds flying.
“First time without my wife.”
I feel it, the WAVE of sadness but right then we’re interrupted.
The same lady who checked me in comes to me and smiles, “Ms. Stevens, your upgrade is ready.”
[Side note: This always happens when I travel solo. Upgrades.]
I turn to the man with a gentle smile, introduce myself and wish him a good flight. I learn his name is Joseph.
I move to my new seat, settle in and accept a glass of water (not OJ) from my adorable flight attendant, Freddy.
I get comfy in my seat and go to sip when - BAM! My seat falls back and I take a refreshing bath.
I come up laughing, after I’m sure I admitted a startled squeal, and keep laughing at the horror on the cute flight attendant’s face.
Freddy rushes to right my seat.
I’m up. BAM. I fall back. My glass is all but empty, my sweater damp, so I just hang on for the ride as my giggles become contagious for others all around me.
Apparently, my seat is broken. And won’t stay up. We learn this the hard way — times three.
Now it’s 12:35, our take off time of 12:05 has long-gone and maintenance is boarding. Not for my seat! For a luggage bin that won’t stay closed. A hazard.
I’m moved to an exit row of three empty seats by a motherly flight attendant who rushes to assist with a “Not the same, I’m so sorry.”
But I’m perfectly fine and about to open my Florence Scovel Shinn again when Freddy’s back with an offer of wine and food, and all but a massage.
Ten minutes pass and we’re all still chilling, waiting for a word from the captain. I do have a connecting flight to my small island once in St Maarten. But I’m not worried.
All will be fine. It always is.
I look up from FloScovShinn to see Freddy’s wide grin and hear that I can move back to First Class. And it hits me.
A WAVE of crystal clear KNOWING.
I ask Freddy to lean down and whisper, “Can you give my seat to that older gentleman behind you in row 15? Middle seat? His name is Joseph.”
Freddy looks, wings up an eyebrow and says, “Um, sure but why?”
The words fly out of my mouth from somewhere beyond me. Another WAVE perhaps…
“He’s alone. He just lost his wife, I think, or she’s not able to travel with him right now…” I pause and take a breath. “I think she passed recently. Anyway, he’s spent a good 50 or 60 years being taken care of and the last few months have been rough. He could stand some pampering from you today. Just not a bath.”
I smile as I watch Freddy take it all in. I pause, feeling the need to say more, something that’s on the tip of my tongue but seriously. . .
Then I just go for it. What the hell. When in flow, be the flow! “He always wanted a grandson.”
Freddy, hand-to-heart, goes all mushy and smiles widely at me before turning to walk a few rows down to the gentleman I met briefly.
I watch them converse and the man, gracefully, if a bit slowly, gets up and moves to the front of the plane. He looks a bit shocked, I see, as he gathers his hat and a book, but there’s a small smile on his thin lips.
I feel the hairs on my neck and look over my shoulder and across the aisle. A 40-something woman with flawless mocha skin smiles as me and stage whispers. “I saw what you just did.”
I smile, shrug (innocently) and turn back around to get comfy with my book. No biggie.
We take off one hour past normal departure and easily make up time.
Freddy comes to see me half way through the flight and reports, “Mr. J is so happy! He’s going to see his daughter. How did you know all that about him and his wife, Karen? She passed right before Christmas. So sad.”
I look at him and simply say, “We’re all connected.”
His frown turns to a wicked grin and he laughs boyishly. “I like you!” He whispers. “You’re my first witch!” Freddy turns on his glossy, black flat and saunters back up the aisle like it's his personal runway before I can do more than smile.
Work it, Freddy!
I’m smiling again at the thought that Freddy would rock heels better than I ever could, as I again feel the tingle. I look back and the woman has an eyebrow raised and chuckles under her breath before going back to her book.
I glance at the title. “The Complete Works...” I kid you not. FloScovShinn, same book in my lap, different cover.
Ah hell, yeah, we’re ALL connected to each other through wave after wave after wave.
And what a wave of conversation Ms. Mocha (Monique) and I had as we deplaned an hour later and watch toward customs.
Monique and I parted ways with a smile, an exchange of numbers, and a few book recommendations each.
Joseph, I saw a bit later, was happily engulfed in a hug from a woman I assumed was his daughter while standing at the baggage carousel.
His air of sadness was just a wee bit less, and that made me smile.
Life Lessons Learned on this ONE Day.
Be aware of this moment and no other moment, for this is the one, the only one that matters.
Don’t be afraid to ask for what you want in life.
Don’t be too busy to stop and take stock of all that’s there for you...All that you have. Even when it doesn’t look like you thought it would, should, could.
Don’t be so unaware that you miss the opportunity for AYNI all around you - the art of giving. . .
And awareness that it’s more than okay to graciously receive that which you didn’t ask for…
For those are the ripples of your AYNI.
Because the universe (or whatever word you use) is ever-observing and mirroring back to you that which you send out in waves of energy, thoughts, feelings, actions, intentions. . .
And so much more.
If this post spoke to you, keep the conversation going below,
give it a heart and share it with someone today
who you believe may benefit reading it.
Photo Credit: Dawid Łabno @dawlab
What’s More JOY Worth To You?
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Access All My JOYful Words
For the detailed soul, click here for more.
Words Are My Superpower
I never considered myself a. . . uh, poet?!
I never considered myself a. . . uh, poet?!
But that’s kind of what took place when I first sat down to share what I meant when I said,
words are my superpower.
Frankly, I think everyone needs a superpower.
First, it’s fun.
Second, it’s our cosmic right.
Third, if I’m honest, we each already have a superpower in us from birth, we simply need to learn to tap into it.
And that’s part of why I am speaking up, speaking out and sharing what it means to write as me.
Whatever it may be in.
In whatever form it may come.
So, here you have me or rather the poet who lives within. The me just starting to poke her head out and take a shot at this thing called creativity.
“
Words are my superpower
— Jill R. Stevens
Words are my superpower
I write words.
I share stories.
My life follows the moon cycle
Ups and downs
Ebbs and flows.
I lean in
No more one foot in
Two feet out.
I am a goddess
Wielding a purple pen.
I am a queen
Face tilted to the sky.
I am a call
On the night wind
And a sweet tune in the ear of all.
Ready to listen...
Willing to hear the sign...
I am delicious,
Divine.
An instrument
Meant to be
Enjoyed.
Tune me
So I shine.
Read me as I refine.
Hear me as
I am
Free and bright
On this
The website of life.
No more wishing
Waiting
Wondering
Is this the right time..?
There is no right...
There is no perfect moment...
There is now.
This moment-
Here
We
Go
Look ma, no hands!
Dude, hear me roar.
Bro, you feel me?
Son, where you at..?
I am all that
And a bag-o-chips
I am the bottle of wine
In your night.
The pillow you cling to...
The scab you pick at...
The wound you desperately want to heal
But don’t know how.
How is none of your business.
How comes when you
Start by
Being
You.
Allow the words to wash over you
To cleanse all that is…
Fresh start
Your day.
Jumpstart
Your path.
Awaken your
Heartbeat.
To the real you
That hides behind...
What?
Why hide you...
You are glorious.
You are divine.
You are here to shine.
To be seen
Heard
Felt
Understood.
Dare
I
Say
Loved.
So get out of your own way
Today
Now
This instant.
And be the vibration
That others feel
That others hear.
Be the one that rises
To each challenge
To face each day
With grace
With love
With joy...
Delicious joy
That is my new game.
Delicious joy
That is my claim to fame.
It’s high time we play
At this game called life.
Why stress
Why sweat
The big
The little
The small stuff
When all we have is now.
And when you sink in..
When you know all is fine
Has always been fine
And will be fine…
You can end the suffering
The madness
The search for more
Meaning.
The questioning
Every-little-thing
On an endless hamster wheel of
Why, damn it, why?
And simply be
Here
Now.
Enjoy the flow of vowels...
My word embrace.
My greeting card
Of love
Of joy
Of rightness.
Through stories
Through articles
Through a bubbling up
And outpouring of
words...
You.
Me.
Here.
Now.
Let it be easy.
Let it be fun.
Let it be.
Everything.
Anything.
Because you are.
Everything.
Enough.
And though my words,
My superpower...
I’ll share
Just how
I know this
To
Be
Truth.
I am honored that you made it this far.
Thank you.
Give a heart below, if you feel so inclined, and stay tuned for more from me and the prolific purple pen.
What’s More JOY Worth To You?
For Less Than 191 Pennies A Week
Access All My JOYful Words
For the detailed soul, click here for more.
Revealing Me — Jill-O-Licious
A new way of being…That is so delicious…I figured what the heck. . . Jill - Delicious.
That’s me.
A new way of being
That is so delicious
I figured what the heck. . .
Jill - Delicious.
Finally, I realize I am.
Life is.
Delicious.
So, as words are, after all, my SuperPower, it simply seemed like utter perfection to combine the two and create the extraordinary.
That is me. . .
Embracing life.
Loving each breath, each moment
And treating it as though it’s all a precious gift.
Because it so is.
Jill-o-licious is the me who values JOY above all.
Perhaps tied neck-and-neck with inner peace, that is.
Jill-o-licious the version of me who no longer hides
No longer is concerned with the thoughts of another.
The judgments
The pleasing
The constant doing
Instead of spinning, I am focused on my gifts,
the impact my words create,
and how they resonate with those who are led to them.
I am stepping out as Jill-o-licious. . . because I can.
Because I hid myself away for far too long.
Because I was a striver for others without a clue what I was really striving for, or why.
Because I was a pleaser to all and never to myself. . .
Because I was so very afraid to be judged. . .
and found lacking. . .
Because, if that happened, then what?
Thoughts of failure, a spiraling downward, a sinking into depression, a questioning of every-little-damn-thing and the very meaning of my existence with no clear answer ever in sight.
Because I was so very afraid, get this, that I wasn’t good enough.
Because I was a plate-spinning fool who should have won Olympic Gold, if only they had a category for such a “sport”.
Yet, the more I step out. . .
The more I open up to my own deliciousness
The more I step into a peace like nothing I have ever before felt. . .
And that’s when it hit home.
I so wasn’t alone in my thinking.
I wasn’t unique in my stories, my drama, my angst after all.
That’s when I noticed that medal I’d been painfully striving for my entire life, that I thought was rightfully, fully mine because I was so alone on this journey, and woe is me, might not have been so easily mine after all.
I mean, I would have placed, of course, ‘cause overachiever was me!
But gold, I don’t now know.
It’s not the shoo-in I once would have assumed.
See, I thought I was alone in this miserable way of being.
I thought I was special, unique, broken. . .
Turns out, I was so not alone. Ever…
And as you’re still reading, well, quite possibly you could have been my competition for gold. . . because something in my words is resonating with you, is it not?
Look, if you’re like I was, spinning your plates, working so hard to be perfect, keeping it all together, doing all the things, and putting on a smile when inside you feel like crawling back under the covers. . .
Or like me. . .
hiding out in a cave, in my pajamas, with a flashlight, a journal and, of course, a purple pen in hand.
And now that cave no longer appeals, is no longer needed, no longer serves the purpose it once did.
To protect me
To comfort me
To warm me when nothing else did.
Now I can shuck off that blanket, step fully into the sun and own who I am.
And, gasp, like the me I see.
Well, I have to share, there’s something so much more divine than that plate-spinning, over-thinking every-little-thing medal we’ve all been secretly competing for our entire lives.
While you might be a gold contender in this monumental Olympic-size lifestyle of over-achieving, over-doing, over-questioning. . .what is it costing you?
What benefit do you get from living this way? Honestly, I’m curious.
Because for me, it just plain sucked. But it was also comfy as hell.
Solely because it was known.
Now, the thought of where I used to be — doing, striving, stressed, joyless, suffering, stuffing my emotions, depressed, lost even. . .
Where everything in my life suffered because of it - from my relationships, raising step-kids, my marriage, my self-worth, my health, my finances. . . my very happiness.
Gosh, it was not so long ago that I was so incredibly sad, unhealthy and all but walking around in circles, searching aimlessly for a way out, and never finding relief from all the spinning.
From the negative voice in my head.
Because I know just how unfulfilling it is.
How utterly draining, life-sucking, soul-depleting, identity-robbing it is to exist, to take up space, to even breathe when living for other people, for approval and from what my mentor calls the “have, do, be” model.
And yet there was a benefit for me that I’d failed to see.
It was comfortable.
It was easy, in its painful hardness, because it was known.
And I was addicted.
Addicted to suffering
To the story
To the angst
To the martyring of me.
And then I found a new way.
A way so f-ing peaceful I can’t even begin to express how delicious it really, truly, undeniably is.
Now that’s so foreign, my old way of being, that it’s no longer an option in my reality.
I mean, seriously, Jill-o-licious and sad just can’t coexist!
So, this is your invite.
To a new way of thinking
To a new way of seeing yourself.
To a new way of life. . .
Free of plate-spinning.
Free of over-thinking, over-doing, over-analyzing, over-questioning.
To a way of discovering
Who you are under all the bullsh-t,
all the pretend,
all the stories,
and all the negative thinking you do in the dark
and even in the light of the brightest day. . .
and put on a happy face, projecting to the world that you’ve got it all together.
I’ve so been there and so done that.
For years.
And man it was exhausting, joyless and, even worse, living a lie.
If this sounds like you, I encourage you to lean into what it means for a person such as yourself to honestly, for-real, step out as you.
Do you even know who that you is under all the layers?
Under all the stories, the beliefs, the lies we tell ourselves daily, until we start to recognize them as our truth.
A false truth that makes us miserable
Makes us hide our real selves
because who would want to see the real, flawed, imperfect us?
I sure didn’t want to see it
Didn’t think anyone else did
But now I know differently.
Being real, vulnerable, present is what makes us great.
Makes me great.
Now I know myself.
And I can forgive myself the “wasted” years that I spent spinning and running from me.
Because they weren’t wasted after all.
That path
A never-ending journey into spin
Into more doing
Into exhaustion
Into possibly stopping the voice within for just a moment.
Possibly enjoy a second of all that I’m striving for. . .
Which is what. . .?
I never had a clear view.
I never knew.
It was simply go-go-go
Because the alternative, to stop, to be. . . me
Ah hell no, that was to painful
too uncomfortable
too terrifying to contemplate
Until it was too late.
To do anything but be me.
And in doing so, in stepping fully into myself
I’m finding, for the very first time,
upon shucking away the crap
the stories, blame, shame, pain. . .
I like me.
And none if it was wasted.
None of it was for naught.
For it led me to right where I am today.
Here, with you.
Stepping fully into me — and the version of me it’s now totally okay to be — Jill-o-licious.
I’m proud of the woman, the person, the individual that I am. Because I have taken the reins of my life.
I have stepped into all parts of me
And embraced all my sides.
No longer hiding that painful piece of me.
No longer stuffing the delicious, playful parts of me.
The part of me that desires fun, thrives on JOY, basks in encouragement yet doesn’t need it from others to succeed.
The side of me that doesn’t buy into drama and angst and stories and the blame-game any more.
A 2.0 version of me that rocks responsibility, integrity, and kicking perfect to the curb where it belongs.
The me that steps boldly out,
Aware that judgment will happen and yet, not caring in the least.
Instead not giving two-sh*ts what others may think.
And that, friend, is bliss.
A freedom like I can not even describe.
A peace like no other.
And I can honestly say — you want some of this!
So if you feel me when I say that keep reading as I have two paths below you may wish to explore.
Three Options For You…
First, you can keep reading…
and discover my journey out of the dark cave of self-loathing, blame, shame, fear, and even depression.
And into the sunshine of powerful inner peace, boundless joy and a playful approach to life that has shifted everything I do.
You can learn about my alter ego, Jill-o-licious, and how I now live from a place of loving myself and loving others without strings or conditions.
And see the proof of how I now live — a deep knowing that anything and everything is 100% possible.
This site, Kicking Perfect, is my love note, my calling card, my invitation to a new way, dare I say a better way of being.
A way of being that when I fully embraced, the world tilted under me and finally, sweetly, righted itself.
And that journey is one of many I have and am currently documenting here on this site, and through words.
Why words? Because Words are my SuperPower.
Stories are my means to an end. My gift. And for some, they resonate enough to bring laughter, tears, a smile, even an unintentional snort or two.
[Involuntary snorting is good. Mixed with uncontrollable laughter, it’s the best thing ever!]
And in the spirit of sharing my gift, here’s a little ditty you might enjoy reading on just that — that art of giving (with an ancient twist).
Second, you can become a JOY-Scriber
And basically access more behind the curtain writing, stories, shares and dare-I-say-teachings from me.
Learn more about that opportunity here.
Third, You Can Set Yourself Up For…
…boundless joy and keep perfect to the curb in your own life by scheduling a one-hour, deep-dive coaching call into you.
And what’s holding you back, keeping you stuck, spinning, exhausted, miserable, or just plan wanting something — anything — to break you free from where you currently feel lost, trapped, unable to find the joy that is rightfully yours to claim.
I can’t say we’ll shift mountains in that hour, however, from experience in helping others, I can say your outlook can change, possibilities can open for you, and that which holds you back or makes you dislike yourself on a deep, personal level can fall away… when you are ready.
This coaching can be intense and utterly rewarding. . .
Can be full of tears and filled with moments of laughter. . .
It’s about feeling again, and it’s not for everyone.
So, if you aren’t willing to step into your truth, no longer be the do-er of all, and to stop taking on the weight of the world, this coaching opportunity is not for you.
And it is an opportunity, friend.
So buckle up, buttercup, and get ready if you know in your heart, and your gut that this is your time to push through, to find the missing link of you, discover more and schedule your call now.
One Hour Does Have The Power To
Open Doors & Transform Your Life
What If Life Is Meant To Be Delicious…
Imagine For A Moment You Were Excited To Face Each Day.
Imagine For A Moment
You Were Excited To Face Each Day.
You Let Go Of The Need To Be Perfect, And Put Down All Those Spinning Plates.
Imagine if silence became your new bestie in life, and not something to run from.
Imagine if you started to love yourself, like for real, and found a way to turn off the negative drip of that voice. . . You know the one. That critical sucker who’s been constantly telling you sh*t about yourself on a not-so-nice loop.
Imagine tossing that vinyl record out the window and plugging into a new world, a new way of being, that was better than your most comfy sweater that envelops you on the dreariest of days like the best hug — ever.
This happened to me, friend, and well, it was absolutely-f-ing divine.
I was once so sad, so depressed, so determined to figure a way out of the hell-that-was-my-life, that I forever ran. . .
To work, to endless hours, to long to-do
lists. . .
Always trying to escape — me.
Then I discovered a new way, a new path of a road so less traveled by my flip-flops til recently. . .
And I’m Writing About The Journey…
Sharing what’s possible, and loving this new delicious way of being.
I’ve Been A Writer Of Words For A Very Long Time
Successfully so.
Sticking to the shadows like a ghost, working behind the curtain to point the most brilliant of wordy-spotlights on another, and loving every second of that supporting role.
The excitement of a new project, new topic, new person to collaborate with was, well, addicting. And somehow safe.
I was able to become a new version of me, quietly, with every word I wrote for another.
It was like a personal secret you can giggle about, at any time, because no-one-else-knows.
But the common theme, the one that no longer serves my soul, is to remain behind the skirt (or pant leg) of another. See, while not exactly scary, it is a new feeling, to step boldly into the spotlight-of-me, and attach my name to my words.
To Finally, Freely, Publicly Write As Me…
. . .for the very first time since, well, my school days.
To kick perfect to the curb,
stand in my perfectly imperfect creations — and skin —
and choose to shine.
Because that’s what we’re meant to do here, on this trip around the sun.
To shine bright like a diamond. [sing it Rihanna]
To chase our joy without stress, free of judgment and not worry about that critical voice within.
To impact others, the world, and ourselves with the gift we’ve been given.
My gift comes in the form of words. And yep, you can read this and think —
Damn, girl, tooting your own horn much?
And my response, now, after much work on me is —
Yep, I sure as sh*t am!
And I’m so proud I finally can.
See, Words Are My SuperPower.
And the mistaken belief we have left over from childhood
or the classroom
or that bully who tormented us
or the misguided parental figure
who shushed us.
Told us that it was somehow wrong to acknowledge and celebrate what we’re good at…
...what I’m good at.
Well, I kicked that crap to the curb, too.
I choose to live my life my way, by my design, no longer asking for permission, no longer toning it down to fit in, and certainly not hiding so that I can stay small.
Nope, This Is Me.
Joyful, Playful,
And Constantly
Laugh-Out-Loud Fun. . .
Hear Me Word-Roar.
I choose to silence that critical voice that used to worry about others really seeing me. And instead, say bring it.
Instead, I write and invite you to pull up a chair, grab a cup-o-joe, and visit with me awhile.
I’m not here to make you like my words.
I’m not here to be your best friend -- although that could happen as I’m super lovable.
I’m not here to please you.
I’m not here to say all the right things.
I’m not here for acceptance
validation
praise
not even money.
I’m here, writing, for me.
I’m here to be me, do me and if you like, well, fabulous. If you don’t, click away. It’s all good. We are blessed with free will and choice.
And I choose to do what I love and know that the rest will take care of itself.
I choose to write my words and simply allow.
Allow those who need to read them to find them, because, friend, they will.
You’re here, are you not?
And If You Desire More Joy, More Fun,
More Play In Your Life. . .
If you want to step into your soul instead of crawling out of your skin at every turn — Well, my words just might be the balm your soul’s been craving.
Maybe it’s time you too realize you’re perfectly imperfect just the way you are.
That you aren’t broken,
don’t need to be fixed,
and have something aching, begging,
no, demanding to come out of you.
Something creative perhaps.
Whatever it may be your time is now, is it not?
So come on in, cop-a-squat with a cup-o-tea or your favorite vino, and shovel in some empowering food for thought.
Words Are My SuperPower and it’s way past time you discovered what yours is. Because when you do, discover your superpower, you can suddenly access peace and joy, have more fun. . . and, well, life is simply delicious!
Photo Credit: Noah Silliman @noahsilliman