Brie Doyle's Blog

Dear friend,

Thank you for being here with me. I've made the jump over to Substack for my weekly blog and would love you to join me.

Just click on the link below to see my latest posts and subscribe for weekly blogs to come right to your inbox.

Thanks for being a part of my community. Look forward to connecting with you, in one way or another.

Dear friend,

Well, it's our final few weeks enjoying this beautiful space we've called home for the past year. It's hard to believe a year has flown by so quickly. It's hard to believe we'll be moving out of this incredible home in just under a month.

For this week's blog, I'd like to share a few of the lessons I've learned about taking this year away with my family.

The best decisions involve risk -- We came very close to not taking this year away because of fear. I remember being in Costa Rica, shortly after we told our kids we'd be moving to Montana, and walking the beach with my husband in a panic. The kids were devastated about coming, and leaving their comfort zones. Had we made the wrong decision? We feared. Of course sitting at this vantage point, we wouldn't trade this experience for the world. It's been one of the most important experiences our family has ever had. Everyone feels scared sometimes. To live our biggest lives, we have to get comfortable with risk. Step towards what scares you -- On the other side of fear is the lesson. But you can't get it unless you step towards it. If something feels scary, there is something more there for you. Move closer. Land holds messages humans do not -- For me, being on land regulates my nervous system in a way few other experiences do. Whether it's a hike or a beautiful living space, being in nature is more medicinal than pills, and wiser than a board of directors. If you're feeling down and out, seek land and space. If you're needing inspiration, get outside and listen. Magic is shared between humans and animals -- Living in Boulder, I felt overwhelmed when we got our dog. One more thing to take care of. Sigh. But since living here and not being so overwhelmed by constant community, I've sought solace in the quiet comfort of animals. From our hilarious chickens, watching our sweet bun buns hop all over the land, to laying in the grass with our dog, I feel a renewed sense of love for animals that I held prior to having children. Watching our kids develop deeper relationships with animals has been one of the great gifts of being here. Love is everywhere, if you project it, you'll find it -- Almost immediately upon moving here, we were welcomed by loving people. We met families who included our kids, I met hilarious and kind women who brought me into their circles, we've been on more date nights with couples in the past year than we had the previous 5 years, and have felt truly held by this community in Bozeman. The right community is all around us. If you haven't found your right fit, keep looking. Though they may not be right in front of you, they're out there. Project it, you will find it. Don't wait -- The time will never feel right to make the move, take the trip, pop the question, have another child, say I love you, end the relationship, write the book, start the new career. Whatever it is your heart secretly hopes for, start it now. We are all marching toward death. You will never feel completely ready. Step in anyway. Family closeness -- Leaving our comfort zone has allowed my family to truly depend on each other. When we may have been back home spending every last moment with friends or family, we were here, just the five of us. When times were hard, when my son broke his finger, when we felt alone, or bored, or not sure where to go, and what to do, we had each other. Weekends were spent hanging out on the land, playing with animals and listening to music. Or skiing, taking road trips, inviting new friends over, or trying new restaurants together. We all fall into patterns in our lives. Interrupting our patterns (like being somewhere new) gives us new information about ourselves. For us, it's allowed our family to be closer than ever before. Because I know my time with children at home is limited, this means everything to me.

I thank you for being here with me along the way. Thank you for continued support and readership.

If you've been with me for a while, you know I take summers off from blogging to regroup and to prioritize my family. My kids are home full-time, so my mom role becomes front and center. I'll look forward to getting back to blogging with you again come the fall. Thank you for staying with me and showing your support for feminine values in the professional world by supporting my pause.

Until then, you can find me writing on Instagram this summer HERE. And as always, I'll be booking retreats year 'round. DREAM is next up and there are just 2 rooms left. More HERE . Finally, Soul Sessions will continue, on a limited schedule, throughout the summer. You can read more about them and book yours HERE .

Wishing you a summer of abundance, joy, and ease. I'll look forward to digging back in with you again come fall.

To your wholeness,

Dear friend,

There is no more important work we can do for our psycho-spiritual development than to heal wounds we have with our parents. Initially, our mothers.

It may no longer be possible, safe, or wise, to mend this relationship in live time. But how we hold our mothers inside of us stays with us for the duration of our lives. And this is where the healing is most important--internally.

The health (or lack of it) in this essential bond reflects in all our relationships. Most notably, the one we have with ourselves.

We learn how to love as a result of how we related to our mothers. In most cases, our mothers were our first source of nurturance and home. In Jungian theory, the feminine is represented by the dark unconscious -- like the womb. Discordant maternal relationships, whatever the cause, may lead to body issues, struggle with self-trust, nurturance, worth, creative expression, or attunement in adulthood.

Maureen Murdock, author of The Heroines' Journey, discusses how the first step on a woman's path of maturation in a patriarchal culture is a rejection of the feminine, and identification with the masculine.

Often, our mother is our first caretaker, and represents our relationship with our inner world, as well as all things feminine. If we grew up with a father figure, we watch as he cultivates his relationship with the outer world. Perhaps he went off to work, networked, and built his own career and rapport while our mother cared for us. Or maybe it was our mother who went out into the world. In today's culture, it's more common to have a mother who lived guided by these values.

Either way, the masculine notion of building/expanding the external, "empire" self is appealing to a young woman who may look at her mother's life, if centered around caretaking, as menial and uninspiring. Often, a young woman will reject the feminine in herself by identifying with, or modeling the masculine figure. Perhaps she will prioritize power, influence, financial gain, and status, while neglecting her inner life, creative drives, and close relationships.

For a man who rejects the feminine, he turns away from the part of himself that knows how to nurture, comfort, intuit, and guide in an attempt to masculinize himself, as culture would suggest he do. He may be successful, but inside he is hollow and unsure of himself, particularly in relationships.

This drive to differentiate from the mother is an important step in maturation. But it can be catastrophic if we're not conscious of the implications over the longterm.

Each one of us, women and men, have to take back the discarded elements of the feminine in order to reclaim our full, embodied and realized power.

If a woman continues to resent her mother for any reason, she remains chained to that resentment by means of fate that will only to repeat itself in her future. As unfinished patterns replicate themselves until they are fully realized.

Perhaps by rejecting her mother, she raises a daughter who also comes only to value masculine traits and modes of being. Or perhaps a man who casts off his mother and/or feminine values, partners with a woman who serves more as his mother than his lover because of this earlier, unmet need. There are many ways unprocessed maternal rejection can present itself.

What if you had/have a wonderful relationship with your mother?

There are two main accepted archetypes of the mother - the "good" mother, and the "evil" mother. If a child experiences his or her mother as nurturing, offering safety, and guidance, he/she will view her as a "good" mother. If a person experiences his or her mother as neglectful, smothering, unstable or unsafe, she will be deemed an "evil" mother.

A beautiful relationship with your mother is one of life's great blessings. Nevertheless, there are patterns to be mindful of, even if your relationship with moms is nothin'-but-love. If you had what you deem a "good mother," you may struggle to individuate in adulthood. Larger than life, inspiring, or nurturing mothers are far harder to separate yourself from, psychologically and geographically. It may be easier to split from a mother you deem as "evil." But with a mother that you viewed as "good" or near perfect, this becomes more challenging, though every bit as essential.

Adult women with "good mother" figures may spend their lives in homage to their moms, trying to emulate her every move, or fearful to step out and do it her own way. Adult women who fail to individuate from "good mother" types may struggle to mature, or to put their own immediate family first, before their mother.

As Glennon Doyle says, “A woman becomes a responsible mother when she stops being an obedient daughter. When she finally understands that she is creating something different from what her parents created. When she begins to build her island not to their specifications but to hers. When she finally understands that it is not her duty to convince everyone on her island to accept and respect her.”

Of course, the entire world wants to blame mothers for everything. Sigh. Clearly, no woman, parent, or person can be boiled down into "good" or "evil." It's just not that simple.

As adults however, it is our job to understand our own unique relationship with our mother, and take ownership for the implications in our lives.

How, then, do we reconcile this important relationship within ourselves?

Journal prompts!

Identify your true feelings about your mother - what was/is your relationship like with your mother? The truth of it? Think about it for a moment. What were her strengths as a mother? What was difficult about being her child? How does your past relationship with her influence the relationships in your life now? Accept context - we are all a product of our environment as well as time period. Can you see how given your mother's set and setting, her past and conditions, came to influence who she was as a mother? Consider the time period, relationships, upbringing of your own mother for a moment. See if this helps you understand her a bit more. Extend compassion - Once you see the context for your mother's upbringing, even if she is no longer in the physical world, or even if she was abusive or neglectful, extend compassion to her. She did the very best she could, with the knowledge and background she had, even if it wasn't enough. Do this as a regular visualization or meditation, extending compassion to your mother in the form of white or golden light. Imagine yourself sending it to her. It will do wonders for YOU and your wholeness. Find strength in her story - Whether your relationship with your mother was/is tremendous or fraught, there is strength somewhere in her story. Identify one of these strengths by bringing it into your conscious awareness. Think about it regularly as part of your legacy. "I come from a woman who..." Think this to yourself, journal about it, talk about it. Find power in the woman from whom you come, even if you never knew your mother. You can envision it and use it to build your story of strength. No matter your experience, give thanks - remember, you would not be the adult you are proud to be if your parents were exactly who you wanted them to be. Give thanks for who your mother is/was, or for what you learned as a result of who she was/is. Remember, feeling thankful does not mean opening up unhealthy relational lines, necessarily. It is an internal practice, first and foremost.

Dear friend,

Happy Mother's Day. I started writing my blog this week to send out Wednesday, like usual, but I couldn't finish it. I've been so busy mom'ing. Those of you who are actively mom'ing right now know that May is like December 2.0. Between end of year parties, tournaments, performances, field trips, BBQs and more, it's full on.

But I wanted to send a quick note of appreciation to all you mamas out there.

I started my retreat business 6 years ago and it was originally going to be called Mamascapes...as in Mama Escapes. I wanted to help change the narrative for mothers around prioritizing self-care and alone time for themselves as being GOOD for her family and partnership.

If you've read my book, you know the reason I started hosting retreats is because I hit my own low when at home with 3 young kids doing the work of mothering. I felt desperate, uninspired, exhausted and just lost. I kept finding myself looking for some kind of label as to what was wrong with me. Was I depressed? Anxious? Did I need to change my diet?

But I had a commitment to myself that was put into place in my 20s. After each child, I'd take a retreat for myself, as I did regularly in my younger years.

Me schlepping my breast-pump through India on my first retreat post-baby. Nice glasses, right?

After my 3rd kid, I went on one in Costa Rica, where I now host retreats annually.

What I realized on that retreat was not that something was wrong with me. But that I'd been hemorrhaging all my energy onto everyone else. I needed to share that same attention and care with myself. I came home determined to hold space in this way for other mothers, women and men.

So often as mothers we're fed the message that our only role in the world is to nurture everyone else's dreams. And it's true, there is nothing like a mother's support.

But an inspired mother creates an inspired child, family, community and society.

I believe regular retreating is how we find our way back to that inspiration.

These days, my business serves more than just mothers. I know we all experience burnout, lack of inspiration and disillusionment. Yet I'm honored to hold space for mothers who are in the trenches, raising, nurturing, and guiding our next generation. Though society doesn't tell you regularly, you are doing such important work.`

And to my own mother, who showed me how to be the mother I am proud to be today: thank you for always prioritizing my brothers and me. I know now, it must not have always been easy. So much of my drive, creativity, ability to nurture, love, and support others comes because I had a mother who gave these qualities to me, unconditionally.

And to all of you mothers doing the good work, I honor you and your sacred work. May you feel the love and appreciation you deserve this weekend. And may you know that it is your light that helps others shine brightly. Retreat, rest, be inspired -- do whatever you must to keep this light shining. You deserve it. And we all benefit when you do.

Dear friend,

In the mid-twentieth century, more than 50,000 whales were killed per year by commercial whalers. That is until biologist Roger Payne began to study and humanize them in the 1960's, igniting a social movement.

Payne went to Bermuda, where whales passed on their migratory routes. There, he met sound engineer and military researcher Frank Watlington. Watlington had been trying to record dynamite explosions. Without knowing it, he captured the songs of whales in the background.

Payne spent the next two years of his life doing everything in his power to put these archaic and evocative songs in front of people. After years of activism, sharing whale calls, and community protest, the International Whaling Commission instituted a ban on deep-sea whaling.*

This incredible story offers insight into our relationships with ourselves, too.

The more we know something -- our body, for instance, the less likely we are to abuse it. This holds true with knowing others, as well. It is difficult to hate up close.

Over the 20 years I've been teaching yoga, my own relationship with the practice has evolved tremendously. An eager student in my early twenties, I put myself through all kinds of rigorous trainings, classes, and practices hoping to deepen my practice and perhaps find myself.

These days, I have a more intimate relationship with restorative yoga, the form of yoga our world most needs to counteract the aggressive undercurrent of productivity many of us live by.

Yin and restorative types of yoga are what I call "Listening Yogas." They are the cooler, more feminine, intuitive types of practice. Listening yoga takes us deep within. It is not about attaining, gaining, or even exercising. It is about depth of knowing. It is about softening ourselves, and seeing our own truths.

I believe that dreams come in whispers.

Dreams do not shout at you to come and rip them out of the sky. The are the light breezes on your skin, the gentle tickle of the spirit, the quiet self-knowing that comes when you are alone, in a room, with a candle. Or on a silent hike under the stars.

They are not born in groups, they do not encumber your daily to do's. They are light, etherial, and just beyond the surface. They do not insist upon your recognition.

But if you're lucky, they coax you into humble quietude for your own good. It is from this disciplined listening that you might hear them, catch sight of the dream fireflies that surround you, though you so regularly miss them.

Living a life of dream-following is only for those who dare to tread in both the material and the immaterial world.

This is why quiet practices -- listening yogas, meditation, energy work, Tai Chi, solo hikes under stars, humming and calm, deep breaths, are tools that transform our understanding of ourselves. Because within them, you can hear what lies just beyond your senses that's been waiting for you.

When we do these sorts of gentle listening practices, we are less likely to act harshly towards ourselves. Yoga in the West has been made into an opportunity to exercise and strengthen. What a gross underrepresentation. Yoga was never meant to be purely external or physical.

The way to know ourselves, to hear dream whispers, is to at first, become quiet. Nothing more.

It takes courage and a soft grip to hear dreams and further, to live them. It takes 100% responsibility for every last bit of our lives. Even and especially the hard parts.

In my upcoming ,DREAM Retreat this October in Baja, we will deepen into this work. Instead of forcing our agendas, or schedules, or ideas onto the experience of retreat, we will listen deeply to see what waits beneath the surface. It is my honor to guide an entire retreat with Listening Yogas. It is my honor to welcome men to this retreat, too.

No matter where you are in your inner world, remember that just beneath the surface, down where to whale sounds reverberate, sit your dreams. Get quiet and allow yourself to hear them.

TRY THIS!: I like to play whale songs during Shavasana for my classes. Try playing some during your next meditation, journal session, or walk.

*Recordings That Made Waves: https://www.npr.org/2014/12/26/373303...

Dear friend,

One of the hardest realizations many of us face while on our healing journey is that we are the Black Sheep of our family of origin, early community, religion, or peers.

Maybe you always felt like the odd one out. The scapegoat. The lone wolf. Maybe you are the only one who speaks out against the unhealthy or outdated norms of the family/organization. Or perhaps it's because you understood or responded to things differently than those around you. Maybe you look or sound different, focus on different values, lifestyle, politics, or belief systems.

Whether your feelings of being the Black Sheep are explicit or implicit, there is pain associated with being the odd one out in your family of origin. This is because of our biological need for our tribe. Yet when the needs of the tribe contradict the needs of the individual, one is faced with a brutal choice: go against the safety of the unit, or go against yourself.

Every family (organization, etc.) has unique dynamics, personalities, and conduct. Yet all are structures that seek cohesion and unity. These dynamic group systems can be helpful, supportive, comforting, and fun.

Or despite how they might appear on the outside, they can also hide emotional tyrants, even abusers in the folds of "family," silencing anyone who speaks out against the *norms* of the whole. Question the family's beliefs, traditions, or codes of conduct, and you risk being silenced, shamed, and ostracized, and live in fear of being outcasted and outlier-ed.

Healthy families and organizations that support individual needs/expressions can be deeply nourishing. But tribal consciousness is dangerous, and must be closely examined.

The late Clare W Graves, Professor of Emeritus of Psychology at Union College in New York defined psycho-spiritual maturity of a human being by eight dynamic levels of consciousness (lowest to highest):

Survival/Instinct Driven - driven by survival Tribal Order - Tribes, gangs, teams, family order, sororities, fraternities, driven by the group Power God - The soloist, the hero or heroin, conqueror, warlord Order and Absolute - an authority structure that enforces codes of conduct - religions, marines, etc. Striver-driver/Achiever - driven by success, strategy and materialism, image, status Socially Conscious - driven by human connection, shared feelings, community Integrated/Flex-Flow - drive is ecological, integration and alignment of systems and values, jumps between collective and individual An Awakened Soul - sensitive to harmonics and mystical forces, holistic, collective, individual, cosmic

Tribal thinking is a LEVEL 2 consciousness, and the odd one out senses this lower level awareness/thinking. Instead of confronting the collective dysfunction of the family, often aligned members project onto the Black Sheep as an easy scapegoat serving as a “protective function” for the family’s larger dysfunctional patterning. "See! He's the problem! It's him, not us!"

As the tribe's codes of conduct are threatened, shame tactics or authoritarian modes of relating are brought into play: "You MUST do it this way, show up at this time, perform in this manner, etc... OR ELSE!" Or "You always ruin everything for everyone."

This may produce desired tribal results one or two times, but force is always met with counterforce. Relating in this way erodes trust, and compromises the health of the relationship. Not to mention perpetuates an unsafe environment for others to challenge the status quo (which must be allowed and encouraged for healthy systems/families).

It is from this tension that the Black Sheep is born, and the archetypal stories are lived and perpetuated.

If you find yourself nodding as you read, take heed. There's great psychological power and value in being the black sheep, or in supporting one if you're in the midst of raising one.

“Do not cringe and make yourself small if you are called the black sheep, the maverick, the lone wolf. Those with slow seeing say that a nonconformist is a blight on society. But it has been proven over the centuries, that being different means standing at the edge, that one is practically guaranteed to make an original contribution, a useful and stunning contribution to her culture.” – Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Ph.D.

Most often, it is the black sheep who has the most to teach us about the dysfunction in our family tree/organization.

German psychotherapist best known for a therapeutic method known as Family Constellations and Systemic Constellations, Bert Hellinger, has this to say about the Black Sheep:

"The so-called black sheep of the family are, in fact, hunters born of paths of liberation into the family tree.

The members of a tree who do not conform to the norms or traditions of the family system, those who since childhood have constantly sought to revolutionize beliefs, going against the paths marked by family traditions, those criticized, judged and even rejected, these are usually called to free the tree of repetitive stories that frustrate entire generations.

The black sheep, those who do not adapt, those who cry rebelliously, play a basic role within each family system, they repair, pick up and create new and unfold branches in the family tree.

Thanks to these members, our trees renew their roots. Uncountable repressed desires, unfulfilled dreams, the frustrated talents of our ancestors are manifested in the rebelliousness of these black sheep seeking fulfillment. The genealogical tree, by inertia will want to continue to maintain the castrating and toxic course of its trunk, which makes the task of our sheep a difficult and conflicting work.

However, who would bring new flowers to our tree if it were not for them? Who would create new branches? Without them, the unfulfilled dreams of those who support the tree generations ago would die buried beneath their own roots.

Let no one cause you to doubt, take care of your rarity as the most precious flower of your tree.

You are the dream of all your ancestors."

I love this frame of the importance of the Black Sheep. Instead of being the great descenter, he/she is the bringer of new life to the family.

There is important work, then, for the Black Sheep to maintain his/her own value. Psychotherapist Annie Wright suggests the following five practices:

Cultivating self-awareness: Accept your differences and get to know yourself apart from others’ expectations. Grieving: Mourn your losses, perhaps of your family or place-of-origin, and certainly of the experience of acceptance you likely didn’t have or don't get. This grieving work takes time. Individuating: Face your fears of isolation and loneliness by moving away from your family (physically or psychologically) and finding your proverbial wolf pack instead. Healthy relating: Learn or relearn how to have close, connected, healthy relationships that may or may not be blood related, and embrace interdependence versus independence or isolation. Becoming self-esteemed: Stand in your truth and keep yourself psychologically and physically safe from those who would unconsciously or consciously harm, berate, shame, blame or otherwise make you feel unsafe in the world. Keeping yourself safe and whole and healthy as an extension of being self-esteemed.

If this is you, may reading this post bring you ease and remind you of your value. And if you instantly think of your Black Sheep family member, begin to ask yourself if he/she may have something larger to offer you/your family, as opposed to casting them off, or shaming them.

No matter your role in your family, no one should have to compromise their integrity in order to serve the larger whole.

To you, dear Black Sheep,

JOURNAL WORK!

Who is the black sheep in your family of origin? Is it you? Why? What about in your children? Why? What's been difficult about being the Black Sheep? Or what is difficult about the Black Sheep of your family? What did this article bring up for you? What value might you/your family member's Black Sheep have to offer your family? Is your family structure protecting any emotional tyrants or abusers? What needs to change? Are authoritarian modes of relating in place in your family? How can you change this? Has shaming been used in your family? How can you change this? Can you communicate openly about this with your family, or do you need distance? With whom do you feel seen, heard and accepted if not your family? What is your value as the Black Sheep?

We don't have to wait for hardship in our own lives to awaken. We can use what's happening in the world around us to teach us about our emotional health and spiritual maturation.

I saw an interview recently with Maria Shriver and Chelsea Handler that left me feeling uneasy. Chelsea Handler is a comedian, actress, writer, television host and producer known for her crass humor. Maria Shriver comes from the Kennedy family, is a former first lady of CA and journalist, and was married to the Terminator.

In the interview, Chelsea admits to sleeping with some of her guests, and talks more about her irreverent style of journalism.

https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=770200474469544

Handler's antics are extreme. No doubt. But what strikes me even more about this interview that Shriver, to her 2 M followers, calls "Journalism Tips with Maria Shriver," is how judgmental and unkind Shriver is towards Handler. And I don't even think Shriver sees it.

Shriver's comment on the post reads "A little throwback to Journalism 101 with @chelseahandler. For some reason, she never came back to learn more! #abovethenoise #movehumanityforward.

The comments that follow include ones like "Chelsea is a slut! Maria is a lady!" And the like.

Shriver believes herself to be *teaching* Handler a lesson on class, and what it means to be a lady and journalist. What stuck with me is how we see Handler feeling embarassment and shame during the interview, feelings we've certainly all known at different points in our lives.

Handler's antics aside, I found the biggest lesson I learned from watching this clip that Shriver offers as her "teaching another example to #movehumanityforward," is of what happens when we don't see our own blindspots. I find this kind of socially normalized, holier-than-though treatment of "other" because of differing views, behaviors, etc., is one of the great ills of our culture today. We saw this in extreme form during the pandemic.

At AWAKEN we talk about the power of archetypes. THE WHORE is a powerful archetype so potently represented in this exchange between the two women. And I am not talking literally, here. The archetype of the whore represents giving yourself away for a greater cause, or for money.

We've all been THE WHORE at different points in our lives. Perhaps we've stayed at a soul sucking job for too long because the money was good or essential for our family. Or maybe we've volunteered for a cause far more than we wanted to because it gave us good feelings or social clout. Or maybe we've stayed in a marriage for money because we're scared we couldn't do it on our own. Or maybe we've slept with someone, or many people to gain status, or to feel our own power. Or perhaps used our family's name, status, or money to get ahead.

No matter, THE WHORE is somewhere in all of us. Like every other archetype, she has something important to teach us. The whore, specifically, about our own sovereignty.

Furthermore, though Shriver believes herself to be teacher here, we cannot always say who is the teacher, and who is the student. These are not fixed roles. A teacher who believes she is always the one to impart wisdom on the student has forgotten a fundamental precept of education: in true education that justly "moves humanity forward," student and teacher are one and the same, interchangeable and fluid, both learning from each other at every moment.

Pedagogy is a dance, an exchange, an opportunity to evolve ourselves, not a hierarchy based on one person's narrow views predicated on their background and conditions. If Shriver could get outside of herself and become aware of how she's making another human feel, she would leave with a very important lesson. It's Chandler, here, who offers Shriver a chance to see herself (though she doesn't take it).

No doubt, like all of us, both women have had their own hills to climb. But Shriver comes from a place of privilege and uses judgement, condescension, and shame as her tools here, even if subtly. "Here, allow me to show you how to be a lady," or how to "do journalism correctly."

Handler, here, seems to represent everyone who has ever been "other-ed," the dark side, the rest of the world who didn't grow up in near American royalty.

Using power to slut-shame another and then joke about it seems like a gross misuse of authority. We need no more examples of women shaming other women, no matter the reason.

My aim is not to blast Shriver, of course. Shriver certainly teaches us something. Though, I would argue it's not journalistic in nature. This blog is about turning the gaze inward on ourselves. The lesson this video teaches is that we ALL have blindspots. Every last one of us, no matter how regal, accomplished, or revered. And being able to recognize, then own our own blindspots is markedly more important than pointing out weaknesses in another. The moment we think we know more, are better, smarter, more ethical, etc., is the moment when we've lost site of the truth.

These questions will help you identify your own blind spots: Who, in your life, are you judging? Who do you think you're "better than," though you wouldn't admit it publicly. What is the reason? Is it because you're wealthier? More educated? More spiritual? Have a *better* family? Are in a stable relationship? Find out this reason, because this is your Achilles Heel, your blind spot, so to speak.

With this information, you're far more well equipped to do the real work of "moving humanity forward," which in my opinion, begins and ends with taking responsibility for our emotions and our treatment of others, despite how our opinions and behaviors may differ. Kindness and humility are the enduring marks of class.

As Laotzu says: “All streams flow to the sea because it is lower than they are. Humility gives it its power. If you want to govern the people, you must place yourself below them. If you want to lead the people, you must learn how to follow them."

Stay humble, stay kind,

Dear friend,

These days, the world speaks to me in songs.

One that I can't stop playing, a country/folk song I never thought I'd catch my rap-affinitied self listening to, is called Starting Over by Chris Stapleton. It hits just right.

There is a time when you know you must start over. Create a new you. Leave. Find a different circle. Do the work to heal your body, or heart. Love again. Go after that dream. Get out as fast as you fucking can...

Maybe it's in your relationship, your career, your health, your setting, or your soul.

You hit that sticky-sweet spot of knowing that something needs to change.

Retreats stir up and ignite buried desires for change. This is intentional in the container of a well-run retreat. So, we talk about how to use our new insights as fuel to create the life we want.

Knowing that there is a process to transformation can be helpful when making sense of our new beginnings.

Transformation happens in stages: Satisfaction - Life is going as usual Dissatisfaction - You start to get triggered more regularly Emotional Threshold - Pain or desire becomes a must, and is no longer just conceptual Moment of Insight - You notice a sign, have a new idea, or change to make The Opening - You take action to claim this new identity of yours. You say to yourself "I'm never going back to..."

Often, by the time you're ready to listen to this felt desire, it can feel like an affront. You find yourself on the brink of a choice that can change the course of your life and perhaps others around you, too. Do you step into it? Take it on? Start again?

Or do you pull back. Settle with what's before you. Wait for the next time your emotional threshold for pain has been pushed to the limit, and you see the opening for change once more?

Each new beginning requires a different answer and timeline, no one knowing its pace but you.

Starting over is the work of Goddesses and Gods. It is Herculean in effort, the underground work of winter to bring forth the explosive birth of spring.

For some decisions, you may be below ground for years before you can burst forth. And this is just fine.

Whether you're wrestling with starting over in a large or small way, change requires tremendous courage. Living consciously means being ready to evolve, even when it feels hard. And we can't know of the life we didn't choose, the choice we didn't make. Regret does little for us in the long run.

As Cheryl Strayed says: "I'll never know and neither will you of the life you don't choose. We'll only know that whatever that sister life was, it was important and beautiful and not ours. It was the ghost ship that didn't carry us. There's nothing to do but salute it from the shore."

To you and all your courageous new beginnings,

Melancholy by Albert Gyorgy in Geneva, Switzerland

On the snowy drive to school yesterday, I blasted Taylor Swift and danced in front of my two boys to see if I could get a giggle. Making my kids laugh is one of my favorite past times.

My older son sat in the front seat and gave me what I was after, rolling his eyes and shaking his head with a smile.

My younger son was not amused. He hates Taylor Swift, and can we ever listen to music HE likes? For once in his life?!

I imagine it's hard to be the youngest, sometimes. I remember going out to lunch with my youngest brother, both of us in our 30's at the time, and he confessed that he was used to being spoken for by his older siblings. I told him that I didn't even realize he was an adult until he was like 28 or maybe until that very moment, at lunch. It was a light conversation, both of us laughing.

But sometimes I see a similar sense of solitude in my youngest son. I remember my little brother's sentiments, when I gaze in the rearview mirror and catch my youngest staring off into the distance, completely silent until engaged, as the other two swirl on in stories from their day.

Yesterday, he was yelling from the back seat as my oldest son and I carried on to T. Swift up front.

"I hate this song!!!! Change this music!" He shouted while we drove.

I dropped my oldest off at his school, and we made our way to my youngest's school. I snapped at him amid his yells.

"I'm only gonna change it if you stop carrying on like this!" I was sharp. And he was quiet the rest of the drive.

I changed the music as we rode along, this time to John Mayer's acoustic version of Free Fallin', one we both love.

When we rolled up to his school, I stopped to let him out. He wouldn't move. He wouldn't grab his bag, or look at me, though we were running late.

"Buddy, what's going on? It's time for school!"

I looked back at his downcast eyelids and quivery lip. I reached for him. He didn't reach back.

"Buddy?! Oh my gosh, are you okay?" He let himself cry then, and I knew I'd hurt his feelings.

The song, alone, makes both of us weepy. But seeing his pouty lip and tears, I couldn't help but cry, myself.

"I'm so sorry honey. I was too harsh. We are people, and we make mistakes. Sometimes we yell, or we snap. But we love each other, no matter."

He came forward to hug me then, all he needed, a gentle repair. I felt lucky to be loved by this sweet little man, who forgives so quickly.

We sat in the car for a good ten minutes after the bell rang so his eyes wouldn't look so red when he went in. He is starting to care what others think, so different from just last year. I'm used to it with my oldest two. But my youngest is still so open and tender-hearted.

We gave one final squeeze and he went inside. I watched him and started the song over so I could cry a tad more from the car. He toddled in with his big backpack, and the tiny ball on his snow hat bouncing.

I have become more comfortable with crying this year. The thing about starting over is there is just so much letting go. Nothing is a well run pattern because every little thing is new and fresh. Newness is inspiring. But it is also unfamiliar and unsteady. I feel like I'm living life with my knees bent - alive, but also unsure.

Boulder, where I lived before Bozeman, is always sunny. Even when it snows, the sun comes back right away to melt the briefly visiting snow. It calls everyone outside daily, and brings smiles to faces.

Bozeman, lately, has felt like Arendelle (Frozen reference for those of you without daughters). And I sometimes feel like Elsa in her castle up here on the snowy hill, all alone. Locals keep telling us this is "abnormal" to have this much snow in spring. Either way. It's fucking cold. And not so sunny.

I am good at being sunny. It is familiar, a well run path in my gushy brain bits. I can find the good in what is hard, I seek the best in people and experiences, and am generally optimistic.

But this year, as I've struggled with my own questions of meaning and direction, as I've watched my children have exciting highs and painful lows, as the comforts of home have felt farther and farther away while we've nested here, I have become more intimate with grief.

Though grief would never be my choice, I have learned a thing or two.

The thing about grief is that it brings you closer. To yourself, and to the important people around you.

There is a sun-shininess that is external, and is a strong habit and practice for daily living. I believe I have this kind of shine dialed. Maybe you do, too.

But there is a depth about grief that is calmer and not so buzzy as the surface-level sun. If you've known pain or loss, you know what I mean. That ache brings us inside and makes us quiet and reflective, the way the sun would argue against.

Of course, depth doesn't come from staying on the sunny outside at all times. Compassion for others is cute and hierarchical from the perspective of the sun, even patronizing, at times. (Though the sun would never realize this in itself).

Compassion is the only way through grief. A humbling, abiding exhale. A teary goodbye as your little man walks away, wiping his face and not looking back because he needs to swim in the river of other little fish, all trying to be people in this bumpy, bruisy, hurty world. No longer just in your cozy mama and son world.

Grief welds true depth and compassion, though none of us would choose its company willingly. Not just the sun-shiny bullshit kind of compassion, or the pretentious, erudite, ivy league kind of depth. But the real stuff. The stuff the BEST people you know are made of.

Grief is the only teacher to soften the edges of our lives, and widen the reservoirs of our hearts.

So, we must walk with grief, in whatever form it comes. We need not stuff it, run from, or hide it. And we certainly don't need to give it a title or a permanent residence. Just like joy, grief is a temporary, but important visitor.

I will always love and prefer the joyful sun. There's no doubt about that. But the underground world of grief has been a guide I didn't know I needed at this juncture. And I am a kinder, more humbled person for having held hands with it.

To letting your grief come,

Dear Heart,

As I sit wrapped in my blanket in snowy Bozeman, and enter another period of Contraction in my offerings in the world, I thought I would share what I'm learning about Suzanne Eder's concept of The Phases of Life Pulse. I hope it will bring ease and emotional context to your inner life, as it is mine.

We each have unique rhythms in how we move within our days, relationships, careers, missions, health and more. Eder says there are four main phases we cycle through, again and again, in the many categories of our lives:

INNER STASIS

This is the phase of inner focus from which our next Expansion comes, the point where we say yes to a desire we hold inside. Ideally, our yes arrises from clear mind and open heart. This is a phase of deep inner connection with your expanded self. You may feel at peace, clear, still, trusting, even if the decision or idea at hand may be difficult.

EXPANSION

This is the outer-focused phase of action. We're steadily focused on our desire. We are inspired with ideas and impulses that move us forward. Synchronistic thoughts, meetings and occurrences come easy; this is the unfolding of our desire.

This is the phase many of us equate with success. We believe we're supposed to be actively pursuing our goals all the time (which causes us to suffer). Our culture far outweighs the value of this phase. If we want our actions in this phase to be genuine, inspired, and efficient, we must stay close to ourselves and how we feel during this phase, making time to go inward, retreat, and listen, so that we don't feel exhausted and forced in action. We may feel inspired, exhilarated, enthusiastic, eager, focused.

OUTER STASIS

The outer focused phase is where we experience the results of our expansion. Acknowledgement, appreciation and celebration for what we have created and how we have grown are important, here. In Outer Stasis, we've reached a new level of experience from where we can identify new desires. This phase has an essence of genuine connection with others because you're now sharing your once internal desire with the outside world. It's the steady state. This is where we live from most of the time.

It's easy to drift into auto-pilot in this stage. We must stay close to ourselves so we can detect subtle shifts in energy, emotion, and desires that signal a shift to next phase. Boredom or restlessness are signals that can come in this phase, indicating that a desire for something different is emerging. In this phase, you may feel content, appreciative, balanced, engaged.

CONTRACTION

An inner-focused phase where we look within ourselves to review where we are, and what we've learned to clarify what we want next. This stage is a reflective time to cultivate thought patterns and concentrate our focus to create energetic momentum for the next phase of Expansion. Energy follows attention, and this phase is about the attention.

This is also the phase where we acknowledge, shift, and feel any uncomfortable feelings that may have been activated on our path, prior. They may have been activated, if the new desire, which made us move from Outer Stasis to Contraction, was stimulated by something unwanted (a divorce, job loss, health issue, etc). They could also be trigged by false feelings. This phase, as all of them, can last a few minutes, or several years.

This is an inward-focused phase most difficult for people to embrace. When we're not in action mode, we tell ourselves we're stagnant or lazy. It is often uncomfortable because we haven't learned to love ourselves through life, and we find fault with ourselves during this phase. But we must maintain kindness and compassion as we review and rest. This phase creates flow and is how we build our reserves, and do the work of evolving for our next Expansion. We might feel contemplative, attentive to inner thoughts, reflective, open curious, exploratory.

When we flow with our own, unique Life Pulse, honoring all the phases as opposed to continually pushing outward with our emotion, energy, time, and more, we see how life shows up to support us. We don't have to make the effort to "force" our current desire. We can let it arise.

To you, whatever phase you may be passing through.