Archives for the month of: July, 2011

The first thing that comes to mind when we hear the word, gestating, is embryos. Babies. It’s true.  There is certainly a gestating process that occurs naturally in the birthing process.

But gestating can be about seeding an idea.  You start to gestate when there is a connection within you that says, “This is my idea.  I like this idea. This is a good idea.”  When you start feeding it, you have taken your idea to the next level; you have given it a womb. Nourishing it enhances its growth.

When I have ideas, I pay attention.  There are random thoughts that travel across the landscape of my mind; they are spontaneous and innocent.  They are naked and new. I give them power when I acknowledge them.  My unedited places of wisdom that couple with my imagination birth my ideas.  These ideas  pop! They wow! They are sexy, delicious, spontaneous and always possible.  I just have to give them permission to become. When I edit them, and fear moves in, oh, I have forgotten how adorable new ideas are.

Peruse the possibilities of your mind. Gestate your ideas.  Make gestation your beginning point; set a birth date.

Go.  (Oh boy, look out world, here we come! A legion of ideas, a plethora of wisdom, a newness of freshness and promise! Nothing can stop us, we are on the rise! ) 

This is your cheerleader speaking, your benevolent humble spectator, your grateful witness, your smiling partner that supports you in being all of you, everyday, always.


Organizing and decluttering share the same path.  Organizing originates in the need for a sense of order.  Decluttering stems from a desire to release and requires a concentrated effort to let go.

Sometimes we can get carried away with organizing. Everything looks good, but there is still bulk and confusion. “Did I put this in order alphabetically or by subject?”   “Where did I put my files from 2010?”

Declutter first.  When you sort through your papers and possessions, you will touch your experiences. Decide if you want to retain those experiences.  How did you feel when you wore that shirt?  Does everything you have in your home reflect you?  Are those files holding information that makes a difference for you now?

This process will help you let go of a lot more than things.  All of the feelings associated with each item will surface and you will have the opportunity to absolve them.

Appreciate less.  It is a stepping stone to more.

Next, organize.  You will open yourself up to true completion.  You will have exercised discernment and coupled it with respect.  You will have trusted yourself to know what you want. You will have framed your organizing to have a lighter heart.

Go now.  Touch. Decide. Release. Organize.  Invigorate. Enjoy.

See what happens.

There would be no Empty if there had been no Full.

Sometimes full is uncomfortable, overwhelming, a blitz of activity.  Sometimes full is joyful and amazing.

Then something happens.  The need to balance takes hold and either the fabulous full becomes less fabulous or the blitz slows way down to  nothing. Gone.

That is where  creativity comes in.  Empty opens up the well to freshness, newness, a blast of activity, over-the-top thinking, surprise, new activities, new people, new experiences, another perspective.

Empty is just as alive as Full.  Perhaps your empty is sad or lonely or disillusioned. Your empty might be relieved, hopeful.

Honor your Empty.  When you are ready, begin again.  Decide how you want to fill your Empty. You will live in it and enjoy it as it reaches Full.

And then balance will move in.

And you will have another new beginning.  You will do things differently.  You will fill your Empty.

And your Empty will thank you.

Years ago, we had a carpet in our family room that had a loose thread.  If you pulled on the thread, the rug would start to unravel in a perfect straight line up the seam.  I could see where this was going all the way to the end of the room. The rug was coming apart  before my  eyes.  Unraveling deconstructs.

On the other hand, a napkin unfolds.  Let’s say it is folded into thirds.  As you open up each third, you see more of the napkin and eventually, its totality.  Unfolding reveals wholeness.

Each is a process that gets to the bottom of something.  Unraveling allows pieces of a whole to break away and be understood and reformed.  It is often preceded by chaos.

Unfolding is contemplative and happens step by step.  It is often preceded by clarity.

Both of these processes are valuable for us.

The truth is, sometimes we have to unravel before we can unfold.

Someone put gum on my mailbox.  It was strategically placed so that I had to touch it to open the box.  I had to work really hard to get it off.  It was hot and it wanted to stay.  I wanted it to go.

It reminded me of sticky conversations.  Sometimes remarks in conversations stick.   They are the molasses of  residue left in the wake of someone’s unedited response. To me. About  something.  I cannot ever remember what the something was, just the honey-like ooze that drips into my psyche. I work at removing it from my memory and not integrating it into my world. Like the gum on the mailbox, I am sure of this:  it does not belong to me.

Then there are those wonderful remarks that adhere to my soul.  The words of appreciation, the clear knowing of a trusted friend or new acquaintance; the spontaneous “I like you because you are you.”

Those remain permanent and lasting and they build my strength. Those become a part of my cells.

Warm up the sticky until it surrenders and melts off.   Keep the mortar that cements your power.