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January 2018

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John O’Leary is on fire

January 18, 2018

On an icy Wednesday, on one of those strange days that follow Christmas but fall before the New Year, with 10 minutes to kill before my Panera order would be ready for pickup, I decided to drop my books off at the library. Then, for whatever reason, I decided to browse, which I never do. I picked up a book called “On Fire: The 7 Choices to Ignite a Radically Inspired Life” by John O’Leary, after an endorsement from Brene Brown on the cover caught my eye. Now, with the benefit of hindsight, it would be silly for me to chalk this up to chance, as I’m fairly certain the universe – that saucy little minx – placed this audiobook in my weary little hands because she knew I would need its words in my heart and in my life.

You know how I get when I love a book. When it takes the air out of my lungs and quickens my pulse and reroutes the pathways in my mind. I get a little excited. I can not tell you how much I adored this work, particularly with the benefit of hearing it spoken by the voice of the author. If I could put the whole thing into this post, I would do so, for fear you won’t seek it out for yourself. It’s that good.

But that would be cheating you out of the opportunity to experience John’s journey at your own pace, in your own way. (Which you should!) So, instead, I will share just a few of the takeaways that I need to put in this space so they can stay with me always.

A bit about John.
When he was 9, John O’Leary decided to play with gasoline. A choice that would forever change the trajectory of his life. Laying in the snow, experiencing excruciating pain and watching his family home burn, John asked his sister to go back in the house, get a knife and kill him. He couldn’t live with the pain or the anguish of his actions. She didn’t. She told him to fight instead.

He was burned over 100 percent of his body and was given no chance of living. When his mom came to the hospital to see him, he asked her if he was going to die. “Do you want to die, John?” she asked him.

Do you want to die? He decided that he didn’t. Instead he wanted to fight.

Finding your why.
Throughout the book, John pauses to identify various “inflection points” in his journey. Personally, I’ve always referred to these as crossroads or gut-check moments. The times when you can go right or left and you may or may not know it at the time, but that decision will have an impact on your life. Do you want to die? is certainly an inflection point. As is coming to a boiling point with your child or a tough point in your marriage. There are inflection points every day. But I love in “On Fire!” when John says:

When you know your “why” you can endure any “how”.

It’s about reaching into your pocket and pulling out your compass when it counts. We get wrapped up in the tasks and activities and the appointments and the expectations, but that’s not your why. Your why is so much more than all that noise. Your why is that thing that, when nothing else works, pulls you through. It’s your true north. It’s your kids and your spouse and your life and your faith. It’s what whispers to you when you hold your palm over your heart. Your why is everything. When you have your eye focused on your why, you are invincible. A superwoman.
It’s also the source of your ignition statement.

An ignition statement is like a mantra. It’s something you can say to yourself, write in your journal, tape to your mirror, that, in the midst of the ordinary, gets you going. And it should start with “Because …” John’s ignition statement is, “Because God demands it, my family deserves it, and the world is desperate for it.” Another example he offered was, “Because I want to make someone smile, even if it’s only God.”

Abandon the idea of ordinary. Go for gratitude.
Toward the middle of the book, John urges readers to “realize that you are not a mistake. You were made with a divine purpose.” It’s easy to dissolve into the mundane cadence of our individual lives. To take your eye off the why. We wait for the big things – the weekends away, the weddings, the new babies, the winning ticket – and in doing so, risk missing all the joys in the ordinary. The sound of children laughing, the smell of a home-cooked meal, the feeling of pajamas (read: taking your bra off at the end of the day). There’s so much to celebrate in that space between the big things.

And gratitude will get you there. Gratitude ensures that you always have enough. It turns a meal into a feast, a house into a home. And there’s always a choice. John tells a story of his father, who was diagnosed with Parkinson’s. One afternoon John asked him how he stayed so positive. Through his answer, he showed his son that everything, even the seemingly devastating things, are gifts.

He was thankful for the days he couldn’t speak or leave the house, because they gave him time to reflect. He was thankful for the care his wife gave him. That she loved him so much, and he loved her. In days that seemed dark, he saw only the light.

Fear vs. love.
Make no mistake, you can be busy but not effective, breathing but not alive, and up out of bed but far from awake. The trick is to pursue significance over success, and significance is rooted in love.

So often we default to fear. But fear is rooted in what might happen, while love is about embracing what comes, no matter what. Fear suffocates. Love liberates. Again, you have a choice. You can fall into love, stay in love and it will decide everything. Or you can fall into fear, stay in fear and it will decide everything.

John encourages you to choose to let go of fear and instead, act from a place of love. And to wake up! Wake up to your life, to your loved ones, to the moment. After all, the greatest weapon on this earth is a soul on fire.

As a side note that’s much more than a side note, earlier this month, we lost my Aunt Marlene after she suffered a stroke. Among many things, she was a fierce cheerleader and champion for this blog. Scroll through the comments on my Facebook page and you’ll see what I mean. She left a piece of praise on nearly every post. Even the really crappy ones. There, under my turdy text, you’ll find a note from Marlene.

On November 28th:
“I read this piece through my tears as you truly have found the joy we should all be seeking. You have also been lucky to develop the insight that makes you such a warm, loving woman. You are your parents’ daughter. I love you, Courtney for passing along the joy. Thank you.”

My aunt battled a number of health issues throughout her life, three bouts of cancer and fatty liver disease among them, For much of her later years she was practically a prisoner in her own body. She was limited in what she could do and where she could go. And yet, the comments. The positive, encouraging comments. There was still joy to be had and love to give, so long as there was air in her lungs.

It’s fascinating and tragic how you never know when the last time you see someone is going to be the last time you see someone. My cousins, Marlene’s children, both shared moving tributes to their mother at her memorial service this past weekend. They were so poised and profound and made their mother so proud. In their hour of grief, they gave others peace. It was a gift to be in the room. And what I took away from their words, and John O’Leary’s words, is how insanely important it is to give an abundance of love to everyone you pass, every day. How urgent joy is. Just how much your presence is required to feel like an active, breathing participant in your life.

I’ve been working on my ignition statement. It changes often, but always I’m thinking of my aunt, and her family and John O’Leary. So far, my thoughts have brought me to this: “Because I am blessed to be able to do so. Because there are mountains yet to climb. Because I want to live, long and lovingly.”

Get this book. Find your ignition statement. Love boldly and without fear. Stand close enough to the spark that you live a life inspired … a life on fire.

Thoughts

Resolutions: lean and clean in ’18

January 3, 2018

Happy New Year, party people! My gosh, there were times during the last 365 days when I wasn’t sure we’d see the ball drop again, but we got there. Somehow. And thank goodness, too, because Mariah just couldn’t leave things like that. I rang in 2018 with the two oldest chicks (Sloppy Joan passed out to Spirit about an hour shy of the mark), my in-laws and my bro. It was everything you’d expect from 35 … a well-glazed ham, a counter full of Crock-Pots and a red wine hangover that began before I even went to bed.

I’m sure it comes as a shock to no one who reads this thing regularly that I am a huge sucker for the new year. As a seasoned ball dropper myself, I relate to the ceremony of it all. Admittedly, I get super romantic about the promise of a fresh start; the optimism, the possibility, the lies I can tell myself in the two weeks leading up to January 1, and the way I almost totally believe them.

I spend a lot of time plotting out my resolutions. I take them seriously, and I love stumbling across other people who take them seriously, too. It makes me feel validated and more secure in my ill-fated hopefulness. But to find those people, you have to kiss a lot of frogs first. You have to hear eight thousand times, “resolutions are a joke,” “I don’t believe in that shit,” and “My resolution is to stop making resolutions.” (So witty, that last one.)

Goal-setting is not everyone’s glass of Sunny D. I get it. Far be it for me to hate on someone who’s satisfied with the way their life is rolling along. That’s commendable! Grab a cup of joe and cuddle up with that joy, I say! Just don’t be a dick to those of us who still consider ourselves a work in progress, k?

So, what’s to become of this desperate little seeker in 2018?

After much deliberation and polling my social circle and complete strangers alike, I have arrived at my list for the year ahead. There are always some repeats from previous lists, either because I didn’t get the job done last year, or because I’m enjoying it so much, I want to keep going. This year’s no exception. I’ve already walked a bit down the path on some of these and, either wandered off into the woods to drink moonshine with the natives, or have miles yet to go.

2018 Resolutions

  • No sugar + No dairy
  • Very little meat + fish
  • Meditate at least 15 minutes a day, every day
  • Exercise in some fashion 6 days a week
  • Write something (non-DSS or work related) and put it out into the world
  • Less things, more experiences
  • Create space to love myself and my life

No sugar + No dairy.
We’ll hit this one right out of the gate, starting January 2. The hope is, we can really focus on these big bad guys for 30 days and then just carry that momentum forward. Not new information here, but the sweet stuff is public enemy No. 1 for this mama. Sucrose, fructose, maple, honey, cane, corn, brown, molasses … you name it, I’ll roll something in it and eat it. I can’t get enough. The butter, the cheese, the milk, the ice cream, I can tackle those lovely temptresses. Especially with so many semi-palatable replacements.

Very little meat + fish.
This one is also at the top of the list, but we’ve already started tiptoeing down the vegan path. I’d say our carnivorous consumption is down at least 50 percent. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that sometimes, a juicy burger or BBQ pulled pork sandwich just really gets my cavewoman heart a pumpin’. But, I will also say that, after going 14 days with no animal products, eating a pound of cow feels like swallowing a sofa. The sooner we can all get on board with easing up on things that moo, squeal or cluck, and being more mindful about the care they were given when they roamed the earth, the better off our planet will be.

Meditate at least 15 minutes a day, every day.
I’m phasing this one in after 30 days so I don’t completely fall apart before we hit February. I’ve had Headspace on my phone for months, that orange circle taunting me every time I see my home screen. When I make it happen, it makes me so happy. I have this recurring meditation. My mind just automatically plays it. It lives somewhere deep inside me and when I let some quiet in, it surfaces like a hug from my calmer self. The problem is, I rarely let the quiet in. I’m going to get better about that.

Exercise in some fashion 6 days a week.
Between Beachbody OnDemand and my gym membership, it should be harder for me to miss a workout than to get one in. But nevertheless, I often find 500 excuses to sidestep the sweat. For my sanity, I need to get back into a routine and start moving. I’m toying with trying a trail race in 2018, and would also love to find a spin class that fits into my schedule. Working toward a goal is always the best motivator so we’ll see what my fitness journey looks like over the next 365 days.

Write something (non-DSS or work related) and put it out into the world.
By far the most intimidating resolution on my list, I have a few ideas I’m staring at from a 3,000 foot view. I would love to do some research, get some words on paper, and send them out into the universe wrapped in lots of genuine love and intention. We’ll see, we’ll see … the thought is both exhilarating and nauseating.

Have you ever seen the movie First Knight? So good! Well, in it, King Arthur of Camelot (Sean Connery) dies and a bunch of knights, including Lancelot (Richard Gere) float his body out to see on a bunch of twigs and then, once he’s far enough away from the shore, shoot flaming arrows at it to light him on fire as Guinevere (Julia Ormond) looks on. In my mind, those twigs and body are my work and the flaming arrows are the publishing world. Clearly I have some issues to work through.

Less things, more experiences.
A favorite returns in 2018! I love, love, love this idea. I have stuff. I have a house full of gadgets and gizmos and garments and groceries. When I look around, i feel both blessed and burdened. To be honest, I would give most of it up in exchange for the chance to stand on a mountaintop with my tribe. I love smelling the air in a space I’ve never seen and seeing the reflection of the world in my daughters’ eyes. No blanket scarf or super juicer can top those moments. When it comes to spending money, insert a pause and consider putting your pennies toward places rather than pieces.

Create space to love myself and my life.
This is obscure perhaps, but also, so clear to me. I jam pack my days with the tiny functions of my family. Lunches and ponytails and bus schedules and Instant Pot recipes and baths and pajamas and Judy Blume books. I can easily fill the five waking hours a day I spend with my husband and chicks with tasks and caretaking. This does not make me unlike every mother in every corner of this planet. But between the morning, work and evening rush, there has to be a little room to breathe. There has to be some unscheduled space. I need to create a place to play. I don’t know what that looks like, but I know it’s lacking right now.

I can only explain it by sharing the way I feel when I hike. When I don’t have cellular data, or an agenda, or a plethora of first world amenities, I feel liberated. Like I’m opening my wings after keeping them under a lead jacket for months. But I don’t think it’s just the scenery. I think it’s cutting the tether to my everyday. I’d love to find a more convenient, accessible way to achieve the same freedom.

What are your resolutions for 2018? If you’re into that sort of thing. Whatever the goal, I hope the next 12 months are full of tender, sweet moments and joyous, soul-stirring triumphs. I wish you loud giggles – from your own belly and those of little ones – and restorative quiet. Glennon Doyle always says, “We can do hard things.” And I think I’d like to do some of those hard things this go around. Giddy up!