i am following a number of threads, and they are all leading me to the same place – to the wanting.

thread the first.

for a long while, whenever i asked the question, "what is between me and earning money?", the answer that came was usually some variation of, "i don't want to earn money".

this was supremely frustrating to me. it seemed illogical – of course i want to earn money. it also seemed more and more hopeless – i have worked through so many layers of this belief and yet there it would be again. it is so frustrating to want to earn money and to find that you are – yet again – in your own way.

this came up again a couple of weeks ago. i asked, "what is between me and earning money?" the answer was, "i don't want to earn money" and then i cried, though i didn't really know why.

i sat with the question and answer. i felt a swirling in my belly. when i felt into it, what came up was, "what if i want to earn money and then i don't? what if i'm not enough?" i had the sense of an abyss, of terror, of wanting something to happen but it wasn't happening and i couldn't make it happen and so i decided that there must be something wrong with me. i had the sense that i stopped wanting in that moment because not wanting was a better reason for not getting something than feeling like there was something wrong with me, that i was wrong.

when i talked to the fear of wanting to earn money during a meditation, the image i got was of a very tiny baby screaming as loud as it could. it said that it was afraid that the pain would be so great that i would disintegrate, and the only way it could keep me safe from that pain was to keep me from wanting.

thread the second.

i might have mentioned this before, but i am reading your dog is your mirror (kevin behan). i just read a chapter that was very interesting to me. in it, the author talks about wanting. he talks about how, as we become aware of our self in relation to others, we begin to realize that others have something to do with our wants coming true. he talks about how we learn to justify our wants to satisfy the people we need in order to get what we want. he talks about how the only way we know how to make sense of our wants being corrected or denied is to create judgments like "i am not good enough to have what i want" because we are not old enough to have the necessary perspective.

the general idea of the book is that dogs manifest our unresolved emotional issues. he says that it takes his dogs about eight years to manifest his deepest stuff.

when i look at atlas, and the things i most love and the things i find most annoying about atlas, they are all related to wanting. interestingly, when atlas turned 8 1/2, which was also the time of our 8 year anniversary, i remember saying to one of the girls at the pet store, "it's like he woke up one day and said, 'i am 8 1/2 now! we shall do what i want from here on out!'"

in atlas, i can see a perfect mirror of my relationship with wanting. i can see that i think you have to subdue or ignore or set aside your wants in favor of what other people want in order to be good or liked or wanted or accepted.

thread the third.

i was sitting at the dinner table yesterday, feeling guilty that i wasn't giving atlas some of my meat sauce. never mind that it was my dinner and i had already fed him. i asked what was behind the guilt. i could feel that it was something that would make me cry, only i was trying to avoid it.

i sat with it for a while, and then i realized what it was. when i see atlas' hopeful expectant expression, it reminds me of me – and how i never get to feel that. i am avoiding the guilt of disappointing him by feeding him, because i am afraid that if i feel the guilt, i will feel my own loss, and i am avoiding that at all costs.

except i felt it in that moment, and now i do feel lighter.

i don't know where all of this is leading exactly, but i think it is leading me toward a better relationship with wanting, and with wanting what i want, and i am really looking forward to getting there.

i find myself blinking back tears rather often these days, though they are a different sort of tear than the usual.

you see, the thing i realized very recently is that i actually see myself with eyes of love and compassion now.

do you know that i will turn 35 in april, and that i cannot ever remember a time when i did not think i was a terrible, horrible, awful, no-good person? that's three decades, give or take, of self-loathing and perceived worthlessness.

i'm crying because it feels like i am coming home to myself, after a very long time away.

i'm also crying for all the versions of me who were not met with this same love and compassion. i want to wrap my arms around each one of them in turn and say, "oh, sweetie. i see you. i love you. and i am so so so sorry."

{a photo project honoring radiance, one of my words for 2012 :: 52 photos that represent radiance, 52 photos that represent luminosity.}

i keep trying to write a post about the darker side of radiance – the things that have come up for attention since i invoked the power of radiance – but it. is. just. not. flowing. it feels sluggish and heavy and dark.

sluggish and heavy and dark is rather how it feels to work on all of this at times, but the thing that saves me is my sense of humor and my fascination with how my mind works, so the energy of this particular post is all wrong and i cannot publish it.

instead, here is a quick list of things i have learned this month. as i write each one down, i am sending the underlying pattern love and giving it permission to exist. and i am also giving myself permission to be glad that most of them are on their way out.

• it doesn't really matter what nice things people say about you, unless you believe them yourself.
• voices that are older and more familiar, even if they are mean and hurtful, are easier to believe.
• even if i believe i am worthy now, old patterns that are based on the (now faulty) premise that i am unworthy need to come up for attention so i can look at them with fresh eyes.
• i am very good at projecting my own beliefs about myself onto the people in my relationships, which is why i am always waiting for the moment when they leave.
• of course it is hard for me to be vulnerable and to tell people how wonderful i think they are and how much i care about them if i am waiting for them to leave.
• my identity for 30 plus years has been based on the belief that i am unworthy. by invoking radiance, i am asking for my entire identity to shift. i sort of missed this part.
• practicing vulnerability in relationships is hard and important and very worth it.
• goodness, or the anticipation of goodness, can be scary too.

om shanti shanti shanti.

i have wanted to talk about beauty for a very long time.

i haven’t talked about beauty, because i don’t know where to start.

how do i talk about the thing i care about so intensely – the thing that is the touchstone for my life – that words seem inadequate and insufficient?

that, right there, is the first reason i haven’t started the conversation until now.

the second reason i haven’t started the conversation is that beauty is a loaded word.

our relationship with beauty can be fraught with pain.

there are entire industries that exist to convince us that beauty is a product and we can possess it – if and only if we buy their product. there are societal and cultural mores that portray beauty as useless and frivolous. it is put into boxes – this is beautiful and that is beautiful and unless something is like this or like that, it is not beautiful.

but none of that is what i mean at all.

when i think about beauty, i am thinking about:

compassion, congruence, harmony, symmetry, kindness.

joy, delight, simplicity, trust, surrender.

authenticity, vulnerability, radiance, love, passion.

pleasure, possibility, play, appreciation, acceptance.

celebration, belonging, presence, permission, desire.

creativity, courage, curiosity, discovery, insight.

sanctuary, homecoming, empathy, devotion, integrity.

inspiration, communion, truth, generosity, peace.

and so much more.

when i think about beauty, i am thinking about:

the richness of a deep, true friendship. the sparkle of sunlight on wet asphalt. the smell of lilacs.

cooking a meal and setting the table and lighting a candle, even when you are eating alone. a painting that stops you in your tracks. the sight of orion and his bow and arrow in the winter sky above you.

a hug hello. the crackling warmth of a campfire. the hush in the air after the first snowfall. deep belly laughter. bright green moss.

a photo that moves you and so you order it and wait excitedly for it to arrive and when it does, you frame it and hang it in the perfect place and then you stop and enjoy it every time you see it on your wall. placing the pillows on the couch just so.

helping someone in need. picking up a piece of garbage in the park and placing it in the trash can. belting out your favorite song while driving. a line in a book or a poem.

the sound of waves crashing on the sand. really truly seeing someone. ruby red pomegranate seeds. a dog on point. a field of prairie grasses blowing in the wind.

the crunch of a crisp dill pickle. the moment when you realize, “oh! this is why i do this!” a shadow on the wall. a single tear.

blue sky after days of grey. sharing something that you are deeply ashamed of and being met with love, compassion, and acceptance.

moonlight on the water. the hoot of an owl. the sight of someone you love coming toward you. two raccoon faces peering out from the branches of a tree on an evening walk. the thrill of the northern lights.

your breath in the frosty air. celebrating a friend’s success. the first sip of hot chocolate. blackberry gelato melting on your tongue. your favorite scarf.

and so much more.

there are two things i believe to be true about beauty.

the first is that beauty is a need.

the second is that beauty is a quality of the soul.

beauty might indeed be the thing i never talk about, but it is also the only thing i ever talk about at all.

i love love love to read. if i were going to define myself as "something", the one "something" that really resonates with me is reader.

the only time i remember getting in trouble in school was in first grade. we were supposed to be doing math problems out of a workbook. i was holding the workbook up in front of my face because i had a book hidden behind the workbook and was reading instead. unfortunately, the teacher came up behind me.

in middle school, i would bike to the library with my sisters every week and bring home a backpack full of books. the librarians let us ignore the limit and check out however many books we wanted so that we didn't have to visit every day.

i often wonder what i would be like if i didn't read. at the same time, i cannot imagine a life without reading at all.

i could never answer the question, "what's your favorite book?" i don't have one favorite, but i do have a short list of books that are my favorites because they have changed me in some way.

atlas shrugged (ayn rand). if you ever wonder where i got atlas' name, he is partly named after this book. i think my sister amy recommended it to me. i brought it along when i visited my grandparents one easter and could not put it down. do you know what i remember most? when i left the airport parking lot, i really wanted to pretend that i lost my parking ticket; it was cheaper to pay the "lost ticket maximum" than to pay the actual parking fee. i couldn't do it. it didn't align with who i wanted to be after reading the book. sometimes i find it rather strange that i love it so because i suspect i do not align with ayn rand either politically or spiritually, but the thing i took from the book was a desire to do the best i can with what i have – in order to be worthy of what i've been given and to express my appreciation and gratitude for all of it.

don't shoot the dog (karen pryor). atlas' breeder gave me this book as a gift on his first birthday. it's about positive reinforcement. when i finished, i had a vision for who/how i wanted to be/behave with atlas. everything i have done with him – or tried to do – or berated myself for falling short at – came from the principles in this book. everything i read (and continue to read) about dogs in my quest to be the best dog person i can be came from my vision of who i wanted to be after reading this book.

the prophet (kahlil gibran). i can't even remember why i bought this book in the first place, but i took it with me on a trip to seattle to visit a friend. i read it on the flight there and i spent most of the flight going, "oh! yes! oh! oh!" and underlining things and sniffling a little. i wrote in it – something i had never done to a book before and haven't really done since. there were parts of it where it felt like he reached in and grabbed bits of my soul – ideals that i tried to live by without being able to explain them – and poured them out onto the page in words. it made me think. it made me gasp. it was full of beauty. i think that if i absolutely had to pick one favorite book, this would probably be it.

the inmates are running the asylum (alan cooper). i've written about this book before, but essentially, it helped me find and articulate my passion for the user experience. (incidentally, i read this one on on a trip to england – on the train from london to swindon, to be exact – so it seems i might have a pattern of falling in love with the books i read while traveling.)

nickel and dimed (barbara ehrenreich). to be fair, this book is not exactly a longstanding favorite. it was a good quick read. i probably wouldn't read it again. there are other books that i prefer and return to, like savage inequalities (jonathan kozol) and the working poor: invisible in america (david shipler). i include it because it is the first book i read that helped me recognize and question my assumptions -assumptions i didn't even know i was making – and begin to investigate what i really believed and what i wanted to stand for and hold as important, instead of taking other people's assumptions and beliefs as my own without thinking about them. it also got me reading everything i could find about poverty and class and education, which was a fascinating (if sad) reading journey.

the untethered soul (michael singer). actually, if i had to pick one favorite, it might be a toss-up between this and the prophet. i don't really know how to talk about this book, except to say that every time i read it, i feel like i get a little glimpse of heaven.

so there you have it, a short list of books that have changed me. of course there are more, but these are the ones that come to mind in this moment.

i had an epiphany the other day that got me thinking about my favorite books and prompted this post. i just read switch by chip & dan heath. at one point, they talked about inspiring change via the identity model, where you get people to ask, "who am i? what would someone like me do in this situation?" i realized that that's what all of these books did for me. they made me ask myself that question; when i found the answer, it changed me.

now i'm so curious, do you have a book or books that have changed you?

i must confess that i am feeling extraordinarily lonely today. though it sounds somewhat paradoxical, it has nothing to do with being alone, and nothing to do with being lonely, and nothing to do with anything in this moment at all.

but it reminded me that while the holiday season can be merry and joyous and festive, it can also be lonely and sad, whether you are on your own, or with a few loved ones, or surrounded by a roomful of people.

my wish for you today, if you need or want it, is that you are filled to the brim with a sense of belonging, with the knowledge that you are loved and appreciated and wanted, exactly as you are, right now, in this moment.

this is not the weimaraner post i was going to write today. i am sitting at the airport – missing a friend and feeling raw and sleepy – so instead you get me, showing up, just as i am in this moment.

i am on my way home from an intuitive painting retreat with chris zydel, something i have wanted to do for a couple of years now. i don't really know what i expected but it was intense and supportive and healing and, i suspect, transformative, in ways that i cannot see just yet.

a couple of weeks ago, i realized that i don't have trouble with the hard and the dark – it feels comfortable and familiar – but i have a great deal of trouble with the light and the bright and the good. not yours – i can see that and celebrate it – but mine.

at the same time, i am getting a sense of where i am heading. not in this moment, maybe not for years, but it feels big. it feels big enough that it scares me. my sense is also that in order to get there, i am going to have to dance with the light.

while working on one particular painting, the idea that had the most energy in one moment was to add glitter. i thought i would just be adding glitter to one small section but it turned out that i had to cover the entire painting with glitter. as i painted on the glitter, i could not stop crying. i kept hearing voices saying that it was too colorful, too sparkly, too much, that no one would like it.

when the painting was completely covered in glitter, the idea that had the most energy was to add large sparkles on top of the glitter. as i painted on the sparkles, i cried even harder. i thought the emotion behind the tears might be fear but when i felt into it, i felt this huge sense of loss. it felt like i had lost something infinitely precious and i didn't know how to get it back. the loss felt very old and very deep.

so that's where i am in this moment. i am reconnecting with the parts of me that knew how to be big and bold and expressive. the parts of me that thought it was natural to be rich and vibrant and colorful. the parts of me that lived and loved with playful abandon. the parts of me that believed i was sparkling and luminescent and powerful.

it feels raw and messy and painful. it also feels very real. and somehow, i feel hopeful.

i feel very vulnerable sharing this, but i offer it up, knowing that i am not the only one who struggles with recognizing and owning and expressing the bright and the light and the good. may we all move closer toward seeing our own beauty and radiance.

p.s. intuitive painting is about the process, not the painting, so no comments on the paintings-in-progress, please. though in truth, two of the photos are of my paint palette.

once, i was a child, with a child’s playful spirit.

then, i thought i had to grow up and leave childhood behind, and so i forced myself to do so.

now, i am learning to play again, though it seems that part of me never forgot – she is the one who tells stories and builds summer houses for the faeries and goes on adventures to the mailbox and sings silly songs and plays (always, it is play) with her camera.

she is so very wise. i recognize that now.

do you know that i have done a reiki session for myself every single day for over three years?

i've been thinking about this lately because i've been thinking about my reiki offer (a way to help you pause and refill your well using reiki).

occasionally, i feel moved to mention the offer. otherwise, i trust that the right people for the offer will find their way there when the time is right. that is how i found my way to everything that has been helpful to me, including reiki, and it is the way that feels right for my offer.

at the same time, i often shy away from mentioning the offer even when i feel moved to do so. it turns out that there are reasons for this.

one reason is that i very much do not want to try to convince anyone to try reiki. i went through my dark night of the soul, as it were, as part of my experience with reiki. while it was worth it to be here in this place, i would not wish the hard of that on anyone.

that's why i've been thinking about my daily reiki sessions. it occurred to me that my experience was different; it did not involve the occasional session. i tried reiki and then took the first class and then the second class and then the master class. i have done a reiki session for myself every single day since that first class, over three years ago now. some days, i give myself more than one. i can no more imagine not doing it than i can imagine not brushing my teeth.

i cannot even believe that i have done this for three years. i generally think of myself as undisciplined and uncommitted and yet somehow, i committed to this without even thinking about it.

(there are other reasons why i don't want to try to convince people to try reiki. reasons like, people vary. or, i believe that we all have our own path and i will never try to tell you that my path is right for you. or, all roads lead to rome – as in, i'm pretty sure i could have found my way to this place any number of ways; reiki just happened to be the way i stumbled upon.)

another reason is that i don't know how to talk about my experience. well, other than in bits and pieces: i don't chew my nails, i don't hate myself, i don't need steroids to be around cats, i can sing higher notes again.

i was hoping to finally talk about my experience a little but it turns out that i still cannot find the words, even if i give myself permission to talk about it awkwardly and inadequately.

still, maybe this is enough for now. i guess doing something every day for three years says something about my experience, even without saying anything else. (then again, i have brushed my teeth at least twice a day every single day for what feels like a million years, and yet i still have a cavity.)

this month, i am thinking and journaling and practicing shiva nata with the intention of working on my relationship with beauty, especially beauty as it relates specifically to me. i wasn't planning on talking about it because beauty seems like one of the scariest things that i could possibly pick to work on. and yet, my sense is now that beauty as it relates to self is the next thing i need to talk about. funny how that works.

on that note, i thought i'd share some of the things that have come up for me thus far.

what do i know about beauty?

i do not like it. it is very uncomfortable, even as a thought. beauty is for other people, not for me. or for nature. or for atlas. i am definitely not beautiful. it does seem somewhat puzzling that i both want to be beautiful and very much do not want to be beautiful. beauty = visibility, and i definitely don't want to be visible.

oh. i do not actually want to be beautiful at all. i do not want to be beautiful. i want to feel beautiful. when i don't feel beautiful, i think that i need to be beautiful, and that seems impossible. partly because my truth – when it is not covered up by other people's truths and monsters and stories and such – is that beauty comes from the soul.

i think this is why the be-ing seems impossible. because even if i don't remember that beauty comes from the soul and thus is always present, i do remember that there is nothing i can do to become beautiful. the trouble is that i think it's because there is no hope, not because i remember that beauty just is.

where is beauty?

everywhere. in everything and in everyone. you will never be able to really truly see and appreciate the beauty in everyone until you can find it in yourself.

part of living with honesty and integrity is accepting the light as well as the dark, even though accepting the dark is much easier. you can do it slowly, with kindness and gentleness, but you are ready to begin.