Who am I?
What are my values?
Am I willing to fight for them?
Make phone calls for them?
Rise from my comfort for them?

What do I stand for?
Who will I stand up to?
Who am I siding with?
What do I really know about them? Not just 'hear' know, but really know about them?

What do I stand for?
Are my beliefs strong?
Am I educated in them?

Can I represent myself in a crowd?
In the noise?
In the lights of the show?

How am I being reflected in my career?
In my goals?
In my conquests?

Where am I in my family?
In my community?
In my nation?

Who am I?
Am I living as this person?
Who am I?
Who am I?

Somehow during my 33 years of living, I have adopted the idea that self-praise is arrogant or selfish, thus spending most my life rolling on the vibe of critical cynicism. It took a lot of time to witness myself with fresh eyes. Even now with three years of steady practice, I find that I am still consistently redirecting the mental "I can't" to "I can" and forcing the time to have real conversations with myself about what I am and what I am not. It takes me an extraordinary amount of effort to invite the light in and to have the courage to extend it out unto the world without shame and without remorse.

In order to live my worth, I must first know my worth. To know my worth I have to be willing to acknowledge the good in myself. We do not live in a society that encourages confidence, which is why I need to live it authentically now more than ever.

The only way to change my world is to change myself and that takes commitment. This is not a road littered with short cuts; buyer beware. Tarot, yoga, meditation, and moon rituals are helpful focusing tools but none will do the job for me.

If you're looking to shift your own perspective and let the light in, start by surrounding yourself with people who support your happiness. Surround yourself with people who encourage your strength. Choose to be with others who want to see you do well. Make no exceptions. Accept no excuses.

By defining your space you define yourself and is the first true step to any recovery. And make no mistake, changing the way you think about yourself and how you view the world is very much like being in recovery.

We have everything we need to begin: a beating heart, blood in our veins, and a line of supporters unseen urging us forward. All it requires is our own personal effort to see the job through.

Sending love to you all on your journeys ahead.

A few days ago, my family and I obtained our yearly Christmas tree, precut, as per tradition. This tree was without a doubt, one of the most beautiful, vibrant trees we had ever cared for. Yet it took mere days for it to stop taking in water. Within two weeks of its adoption, almost all its needles had fallen and the tree was stained brown in its passing.

Immediately I sought a second tree to replace it. With even more diligence and care, I asked permissions of each tree standing tall in the local charity lot, eventually choosing another that said it welcomed the experience of coming into our home. It, too, didn’t survive more than a week.

Having a deep inner-child connection to the magic at Christmas, this was a heartbreaking experience for me. Every year, our Christmas season would begin with my parents dutifully loading my siblings and I into the back of their seatless, black Chevy van for a day’s drive into the Rocky Mountains. I was the youngest of six (therefore the smallest) and would have to act as the wall to their many flats of unopened beer stacked in the back. My nose would be pink and running and ass frozen from the 72 cans of cold Kokanee I sat upon. I didn’t care. We’d spend the day in the forest picnicking in the snow until we found the perfect tree. I would expend as much energy as I could so I could sleep during the inebriated swerve through an icy mountain passes on the way home. But Christmas always lent its magic to our safety. It was the only time the violence ceased both inside and outside our home.

Now, with two trees dead and still fighting for the celebration, I purchased a potted Norfolk pine. It was tall enough that we were able to string a simple copper strand of lights around it and tie a list of gratitudes from ribbons to its branches. The potted Norfolk sat in the corner of our apartment where it’s two mighty brothers once stood. We loved that little pine. It too passed before summer began.

I do not believe the death of these trees is an indicator that I’m a terrible caretaker— I loved them deeply, and care for a veritable garden regularly. I don’t believe this is a matter of purchasing a real tree vs. a fake one vs. none at all for Christmas and is most definitely not a debate I intend to incite right now; we’re at where we’re at.

In this moment, I believe the teaching of the Pines asks me to consider how I protect what I believe to be sacred and to reevaluate what I consider sacred to mean. Is it the tree's right to life, or is it protecting the vision of my childhood tradition?

I believe the Pines are showing me about where I still place security in possessions. And I think it’s teaching me about sharing. And I can see how that one teaching alone ripples out into my entire life right now.

• What is a sacred tool?

• How do I use it? Misuse it? Protect it?

• Where do I place too much value in “it”? Where do I not put enough?

• How many lives would the tree serve if its roots were left to connect in the earth vs. potted in my home?

• What traditions would be best honored in the past?

• Where do my celebrations need elevating?

• And, how can I celebrate the season without making my pain watch from the chair in the corner? 

Be well.

Jamie

Sitting with the energy of writing and lack thereof this afternoon, I asked myself what my resistance looks like. If it had color, texture, form, what shape would its energy hold? Then I decided to paint it.

My resistance takes the form of a spine. There’s a palatable gap between thoughts and actions. This is the space of Faith, where my Effort and Will are being challenged.

The internal landscape holds issues with Fear, Lack, Anger, and Failure; the four points of where my resistance is born.

Can I take time off to put pen to paper?

Will I have enough time? Money? Energy?

Will the interest in my work continue if I tuck away?

Who will fight against the experiences I reveal? Where is there danger in my sharing?

And of course, will I even get it done? Is this an effort doomed to failure?

‘Trial’ bears the energy of 8; dependability. Accountability. Discipline. Order. Structure. Creating a routine that doesn’t get lost.

Faith is the bridge that will bring me out of the ick in my head and into the creative space of passion. To pen a book, several even is a part of my life purpose. I just KNOW it. I’m more sure of it than my own name. You would think this would be an easy thing to just dive into, but it is the TRIAL.

On the external landscape, the curve of a spine speaks of a heart blossoming in the energy of discovery, love, purpose, healing. It bears the color of a career change. Of modesty. Of the refinement of one’s character.

This was a super interesting experiment that I’m quite pleased with. It was so easy to read. I think this deserves a trial in replacing the mini chakragraphs in the community-serving sessions.