Do You Want to Be Average?

Image courtesy of Amazon.com

I was first introduced to Chris Guillebeau by Sarah Robinson at her Creating Irresistible Presence conference last fall. Sarah raved about Chris' book, The Art of Non-Conformity, so of course I had to have it (along with a host of others). Today I wanted to share this list of his that inspires me. I hope it does the same for you.

11 Ways To Be Unremarkably Average

1. Accept what people tell you at face value.

2. Don't question authority.

3. Go to college because you're supposed to, not because you want to learn something.

4. Go overseas once or twice in your life, to somewhere safe like England.

5. Don't try to learn another language, everyone else will eventually learn English.

6. Think about starting your own business, but never do it.

7. Think about writing a book, but never do it.

8. Get the largest mortgage you qualify for and spend 30 years paying for it.

9. Sit at a desk 40 hours a week for an average of 10 hours of productive work.

10. Don't stand out or draw attention to yourself.

11. Jump through hoops. Check off boxes.


I don't know about you, but I readily identify with several of these, especially # 7. What do you think? What would you add to this list? Any of these make you cringe? Who wants to join me in my journey to being anything but average? (p.s. you can buy Chris' book here!)

Do You Know My Friend Amy Oscar?

After my last post, I had a long conversation with my friend, Amy Oscar, who is an intuitive spiritual consultant. She was one of many I was lucky enough to meet at CIP, Sarah Robinson's conference I attended in September. What Amy does is fascinating, and I encourage you to read more about it here. Talking through things with her helped me put together some of the puzzle pieces I wrote about on Monday. One particular thing Amy said has stuck with me: "The story we tell over and over again is not the story." She suggested I take a look at things that were going on within our family before my dad came out of the closet. And indeed, there were things going on, but they will have to wait for another post.

According to Amy (I'm using her words verbatim because she says it far better than I could):

The third chakra is the seat of the will (and willpower). This is the place where "fire in the belly" lives, the personal 'foundry' where we forge, through our choices, the life that we will ultimately manifest.

In terms of your hernia, its location suggests to me a weakness in your ability to own your own choices, your authority over your own life. I said that perhaps, continuing to tell the story of the wound that you received when your father came out was holding you in the past - and holding this weakness/vulnerability open even though that event happened many years ago. Understanding the energy anatomy of the body can help us understand how symptoms and illness are often (I said, always) linked to causal factors in the psyche and energy body. In this way, a hernia - a weakness in the abdominal wall above the navel - suggests, to me, that this weakness, held over time had manifested from the energy body to the physical body and now physical surgery is the solution. From the perspective of energetic healing, you can support this surgery - and prevent further symptoms, recurrence, weakness in this chakra - by addressing the psychological issues in play.

Amy sent me here to check out this educational diagram of all the chakras and where they reside (if you're a curious bird like me). I was so intrigued that I asked Amy to give me the names of some books about all of this stuff so I can investigate further. Working with Amy again would be wonderful (if she's willing), and I'm  looking forward to learning and discovering more.

If you'd like to connect with Amy, you can find her on Twitter here:
Her blog is incredible, and I encourage you to subscribe now.
You can also find her on Facebook here.
Pssssst. She's also got a book coming!! It's going to be phenomenal, just like Amy!

Bits and pieces of our conversation, stream-of-consciousness style:

**symptoms in the body = flags from the psyche.
**so many things I'm dealing with: rage, betrayal, lying, and identity issues. All of these things coming to a head are like the an infection, like the wound in my abdominal wall.
**when I was 15, I shoved it all under the carpet to hide it-- the secret of my gay dad.
**intubation = symbolic b/c I could not speak, did not speak, did not have/use my voice.
**shame in homosexuality --> imagery I used of something I was choking on, being shoved down my throat.
**start looking at what was going on before dad came out.
**his coming out = his pulling the tube (intubation) out.
**other truths may still be buried, carrying a weight.
** the 3rd chakra is navel/stomach/belly button area = powerlessness.
**my dad didn't do anything to me, he did it for himself (I do know this, but still it's hard)
**to be writing/thinking about all of this now is good, but risky in a way because of the historical blow coupled with the anniversary of the wound, and now surgery in the same week. But may also be cathartic and very healing (literally and metaphorically).

Amy gave me some food for thought in a big way. She was brilliant, insightful, kind, and gentle with me. I'm utterly and completely in awe of her. So hurry on over to her blog and get to know her!

I Know This Much Is True

My experience at @SarahRobinson's event, Creating Irresistible Presence, over the weekend was so mind blowing that I'm not sure where to begin. This was my first conference ever, and it was a smart choice. I made wonderful new friends, centered myself and realized that this book I want to write-- this giant looming task that's been scaring me shitless-- is already writing itself on this very blog. Who knew? (insert lightbulb flash here)

Moving right along.

I know this much is true:

If I don't write, I'll die.
I am scared.
Scared in general, and scared to write about certain things.
"They" tell me I'm not good enough.
"They" tell me everything has already been written, & written better.
"They" tell me not to bother, because no one will care, and no one will read.
I have to stop listening to them. They don't matter.

I am nauseous. I am going to throw up. I feel the burning bile in the back my throat.
The fear bubbles up inside of me, unfurling and reaching, ready to take over.
But I'm not going to let it. I am standing up. I am tall. I am strong.
I am not a shrinking violet. I will not shrink to fit.

There are stories stirring underneath my skin. Little flutters waiting to be set free in the wind.

My life, all that I choose to share, will be the legacy I leave to those who may be lost.

I am not alone.
I am not alone.
I am not alone.
I'll keep saying it until I believe it.

I just want to be loved.
I just want to be loved.
I just want to be loved.
I'll keep saying, "I am already loved" until I believe it.

I want: If you write it, they will come (a la Kevin Costner in Field of Dreams)
I am not going to beg, plead, bribe and whine at you to read my stuff.
I want you to want to come here. I want you to want me.
And I don't want to feel ashamed in wanting that. I want that to be okay.
I tell myself: I am special. What I have to say is important and significant.

I feel like I give so much love, but am afraid to ask for it in return.
I don't want to have to ask--I just want to feel it, to know it's there.
I felt it at CIP. A still warm, fresh-out-of-the-dryer blanket wrapped around me.
Now I'm home and I don't feel it anymore, but I know it's still there.

My heart is so full of all of you. And so open.
I am making myself vulnerable to you.
I am scared. It's okay to be scared.....just a little bit.

What you see is what you get.
I am me. I am Erin. I have my quirks & faults, but my strengths, too.
I am enough, I do enough, I have "enough-ness" (thank you, @Nicole_Willis).
I am going to stop being so "good" (thank you @Tracilove).

I am a writer.
I am a writer.
I am a writer.

I AM A WRITER, DAMN IT!

What are you thinking right now? Please share your thoughts in the comments.

Crawling Out of My Little Erin Shell, or, Thank You, Mrs.(Sarah) Robinson!

While I was in high school, several of the guys in my class made fun of me by routinely saying, "Just crawl back into your little Erin shell." Those words gnawed at me and hurt me deeply, though I tried not to show it and to laugh it off or ignore it. I have always kept a protective "shell" around me, like a turtle or a snail. Ironically, that shell emerged years before because of similar circumstances and people saying ugly things to me. Even if they were simply joking, their words only made me loathe myself even more.

I've been an introvert much of my life and only let the real me out when I'm feeling truly comfortable....which takes a long time unless there is alcohol involved. But this blog has been an incredible outlet, allowing me the space to safely share my creativity and innermost thoughts. Many of you know I long to write a book and I often say that "I have a book in my head." Yet that book has never quite made it onto paper or into my computer. Fear stands in my way, fear of so many different things, but obviously failure is near the top of that list.

Over the weekend a Twitter friend, @SarahRobinson, messaged me about her upcoming conference: CIP, or Creating Irresistible Presence. Sarah is also the author of Escaping Mediocrity.  I recently saw a link on Twitter to her Burn the Ships post, which made me cry with recognition.

I bit the bullet. I overcame incredible nausea, called @SarahRobinson herself as well as @KatJaib and spoke with them both about potentially coming to the conference. And I did it. I hung up the phone, got on the computer, and made my reservations. It's a done deal. Hotlanta, here I come!

My walls are coming down.
My armor is coming off.
I'm making myself vulnerable and opening up.
I'm burning my ships, or my "shell," as it were.
(Thank you, Sarah Robinson!)

No more excuses, no more hiding, no more waiting.

I begin my journey at CIP in Atlanta in September.
I need to be pushed, pulled, stretched to my limit.
I need to be taken out of my comfort zone.
Like @SarahRobinson said, it's as if my words
are all there, but they're "stuck" in my throat and I can't get them out.

I'm going to find myself, that part of me that is ready, waiting.
She's perhaps buried under some rubble and wreckage, but she's there.
She just needs someone to help pull her out.

Who's with me?
And what are YOU waiting for? It's time to pull out all the stops. Burn your ships!