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Recently I signed up for Stanford’s online “A Crash Course on Creativity.” For our first assignment, we were asked to “Design the Cover of Your Autobiography: Include an image, the title, subtitle, and write a 200 word (or less) biography.”

I really enjoyed our first assignment, so I wanted to share my book cover (above) and Prologue. I don’t have computer or graphic expertise, so my cover is very simple. I went into compare and despair when I saw other people’s submissions, but that’s a topic for a different blog post. I spent more time on my prologue and found writing it to be quite instructive. 

What would the book cover of your autobiography look like? How would you describe your life in 200 words or less?

Prologue

Born knowing

Inclinations and talents, undeveloped yet present

Curious, open, enchanted by sunbeams dancing on a wall

Dreaming, playing, reveling in Nature

Inspired by a voice within:

“You can be a writer, an actress, a wizard.”

Possibility abounds

Gradual forgetting and mindlessness

Riddled by “shoulds,” my voice lost in a din of external expectations

A misguided tour: becoming an attorney

Staring into the eyes of a gentle mare

Mirrors of disconnection from Self

Cracked, fragmented, sharp shards of glass cutting into awareness

Possibility abounds

Digging deep

Avid student, tenacious explorer of passion, meaning, and strengths

A well-traveled path from darkness into the light

Sunrise sitting, prayer flags waving in the breeze

Awed by strokes of orange and pink light brushed on a canvas of blue

In my heart, the beating of a shaman’s drum

Possibility abounds

Gazing into the soulful eyes of a fox

She and I are one

Connection to Something Greater and to Self  – connection to Joy

I hear the voice again

Commanding further travel along my path and sharing lessons learned

My calling: To help others live a life true to who they are

Possibility abounds

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According to palliative nurse and death counselor, Bonnie Ware, the top regret expressed by people who are dying is “I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.” This regret is an important reminder – it can change not only the way we die but the way we live.  

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Hi Everyone,

For my positive psychology certificate program final project, I need to teach a workshop before presenting it at the intensive at Kripalu in April. The name of my workshop is “The Voice in Your Heart: Finding Your Way Back to You.” As part of my project, I have written a children’s picture book illustrated by the lovely and talented Christa Gallopoulos.     (http://www.carryitforward.com)

I would love for you to attend my Denver workshop. It will be the first time I present this material and share “Miranda’s Voice” (my book) with the world. There is no charge; I would, however, love your feedback before I present it as my final project at the positive psychology intensive. 

Here are the details: 

Date: Saturday, March 30, 2013
Time: 2:00 p.m. 
Place: Harmony Yoga, LLC (http://harmony-yoga.com)
Address: 560 S Holly St Denver, CO 80246

Thanks for your help with this. ♥

(Art by Christa Gallopoulos, © 2013)

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Why do I meditate? Meditation is about connecting, connecting to self and the world. 

When I meditate on my cushion, I become aware. I focus my attention on my breathing or whatever I chose. I focus and become more familiar with the object of my attention. I connect with it, and I come to know it better. 

When I meditate on my cushion, I become a compassionate observer. With an open mind and heart, I am aware of the sensations in my body, and I pay attention to my emotions as they arise. I am curious about my physical and emotional pain. I don’t try to change the pain. Instead I change my relationship with it. This allows me to see pain as something other than an enemy. 

When I meditate on my cushion, I watch the ticker tape of thoughts crossing my mind. I watch it as a third person separate from my thinking. I observe my thoughts through a lens not colored by judgment or interpretation. This permits me to be with what is; I don’t lose myself in mindless rumination or habitual reactivity. When I sit on my cushion, I connect with myself, and I get to know me better. 

When I sit on my cushion, I tune in to my surroundings, and to the colors, shapes, lighting, aromas, and sounds that fill them. Every morning, I watch the sun rise from my cushion in the front yard; every morning I am filled with a sense of wonder. Even though I have observed the same sky, trees, houses and yards hundreds of times, I experience something entirely new and different in each sitting. I see the extraordinary in the ordinary.  Moment by moment my surroundings change. Accepting this change and the gift it offers connects me to the world surrounding my cushion; I get to know it better.

The beauty of meditation is that the more I practice, the easier it becomes to exercise mindfulness off the cushion. I am better able to stay present and non-judgmental. Being more in touch with my thoughts and emotions, I am better able to see circumstances as they are, not as my subjective interpretation of them. I am more likely to act from a place of equanimity, not to react in a habitual or knee-jerk fashion I may regret later on. Off the cushion, I pay more attention to the people I encounter; I am better tuned in to what they are thinking, how they are feeling, what they are saying and not saying. I also am more cognizant and appreciative of the beauty that surrounds me. I am grateful for the call of a magpie, the shifting nature of clouds, Colorado’s snow-capped mountains….

Off the cushion, I am more connected to the world at large and to the person I am in that world. I get to know both the world and myself better. 

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Happy New Year

Pursuant to ritual, I begin every new year by listening to these two inspirational talks by Steve Jobs and Brené Brown. I can’t think of any better words to live by.

Wishing  you all a most remarkable 2013. May your new year be filled with love, joy, personal growth, and all sorts of wondrous adventures.

Hugs,
Laurie

Steve Jobs’ Stanford Commencement Address

Brené Brown’s TED Talk on Vulnerability

Death is not extinguishing the light; it is only putting out the lamp because the dawn has come. (Rabindranath Tagore)

My Father: Robert C. Hawley, Sr.
August 7, 1920 – October 7, 2011

He’s back in the saddle again.

The past week I’ve been asking myself, “What should I write about?”  The first time I asked this question, I heard a soft voice whispering: “Write from the heart.” The response didn’t make sense to me. It addressed how to write but not what to write. How could I write from the heart when I had nothing to write about?

I asked the question again: What should I write about?”

And again, the voice whispered, this time not so softly: “Write from the heart.”

Write from the heart. What does that mean?

Write from the heart means writing about what you know. It doesn’t matter if your subject has been written about by someone else. No one perceives or experiences things in exactly the same way you do. Thousands of people have written about 9/11, and every one of them has a different story about that day.

You have stories that only you can tell. If you don’t tell them, no one else will, and they will be lost to the world. Your stories add new perspective. They contribute to the richness and texture of other people’s lives. It would be selfish not to share them.

Write from the heart. What does that mean?

Write from the heart means writing in a style that’s unique to you, using your words in the way you would use them. Growing up I often felt my language was inadequate. I found myself using quotes in essays because I believed others could express what I had to say better than I could. I also believed that I had nothing new to add. I was wrong.

It’s important to learn the basics of good writing, which we learn by reading the work of other writers.  As Twyla Tharp wrote in her book, The Creative Habit: “Before you can think out of the box, you have to start with a box.”  After you have familiarized yourself with the box, however, venture beyond its confines. Don’t imitate others. Write in a way that says: “This is me speaking.”

Write from the heart. What does that mean?

Write from the heart means writing what you want to say and what you want others to know. Forget about writing what people want to read. Forget about seeking their approval. We try so hard to fit in and have others like us that we often abandon essential parts of ourselves. Write for you. Write from a place of authenticity, and don’t compromise your truth. Do this, and you will approve of you.

Write from the heart. What does that mean?

Write from the heart means writing “right from the heart.” Speak honestly and openly about whom you are and what you are feeling. “Right from the heart” is about being willing to expose yourself and put your vulnerability on the line. When you do this, you will genuinely connect with those readers to whom you are meant to connect. You will find your tribe, a group to which you belong, not just fit in.

Write from the heart. What does that mean?

Write from the heart means giving voice to those things you need to say – to yourself and to others. As a child, I often felt inconsequential, a feeling I now know isn’t true. Even so, I sometimes fall into old beliefs and find it necessary to say to myself that I matter. I need to say that you matter too.

What do you find necessary to say to yourself? What do you find necessary to say to others?

Write from the heart. What does that mean?

Write from the heart means dare to be YOU.

We are born knowing exactly who we are. Over the years we abandon or neglect much of what we know about ourselves. Fortunately, it’s never too late to rediscover who we are.

September is here. Growing up, this was always my favorite time of year. It meant going back to school, being with friends, and learning something new. As I walked my golden retrievers today, I felt nostalgic. I missed being a student; I missed my wonderful teachers.

Suddenly I felt a tug on both leashes. “What about us? We’re your teachers,” Liza Jolie and Zydeco Ardoin not so gently reminded me.

Of course, Liza and Zydeco were right. We never stop being students. Everything in our lives – people, animals, circumstances, everything – serves as our teacher. Both of my golden retrievers are excellent teachers. We all can learn by following their example.

Gratitude

Zydeco loves stuffed toys. He drops his duck, gorilla, hedgehog, or whatever the toy du jour is, at my feet. He wags his tail, looks up expectantly, and begs me to throw it again and again. There can be no doubt about his appreciation, no doubt about his joy.

No Comparative Mind

Liza loves balls. With jaws locked, she holds on to her pink tennis ball relentlessly.  Her enthusiasm for “keep away” isn’t dampened by comparative thinking. She’d never feel discontent or refuse to play because her ball is the wrong color, the wrong shape, or the wrong size.

Living in the Moment

A few months ago, Zydeco developed a problem with his breathing. I struggle with this. I worry about his condition worsening, about his suffering, about what I’ll do without him. Sometimes I get lost in worry, and ironically, it’s Zydie who helps me find my way again. Lovingly resting his head in my lap, he smiles in that way only a golden retriever can smile. “I’m still here Mom. Let’s make the most of now.” Zydeco isn’t worried about what may or may not happen tomorrow. Every day, he still brings his leash to me, insisting that it’s time for a walk. He revels in playing with Liza, enjoys his treats, and feasts on love and attention. Zydeco is an expert at being present and living in the moment.

Focus & Flow

There’s nothing quite like Liza’s ability to focus when she spies a squirrel. She immediately sets an intention to catch that peculiar little creature with a bushy tail. It’s a challenging intention, but she never waivers in her resolve. She never doubts her ability to accomplish the task at hand. Rather, she engages in it wholeheartedly. Lizie waits patiently, not moving a muscle, then gives chase when the time seems right. The squirrels who hang out in my yard seem to enjoy the game as much as she does. They race back and forth along the fence, chattering at her: “Catch me if you can.” Liza can play this game for hours. She gets so engrossed, she even forgets her mealtime. For Liza, that’s saying a lot. If I didn’t know better, I would say she was experiencing what we human beings define as “flow.”

Play

For Liza and Zydeco, play is a daily practice. They love to wrestle, lunging at one another in midair and rolling, furiously intertwined, on the grass. I’m amazed they never harm one another, but they play by a well-understood set of rules:  “I can use only this much force. I can bite only this hard….” Liza and Zydie don’t play out of a sense of necessity but for the sheer joy of doing it. Both of them inspire me – they inspire me to play like a dog.

Love & Forgiveness

Zydeco really doesn’t like taking his meds. “Why Mom, do you make me swallow those ghastly pills?” Liza makes it perfectly clear how much she detests walking with a gentle lead. Every once in a while one of them gets underfoot, and I step on his or her paw.  Even so, all is quickly forgiven; neither of them harbors anger or resentment. Have you ever run into someone who hurt your feelings years ago, someone you haven’t seen since that time? When you run into him or her, do you see someone who has hurt you or who that person is today? Zydeco and Liza see only the latter. I wish the same were always true of me.

The above are only a few of the lessons I’ve learned from my dogs.  Thank you Liza and Zydeco for being my teachers and for sharing your golden wisdom. I am extremely grateful to have you in my life.