It has come to my attention that we spend a lot of time making things bigger and more important than they need to be and it makes these things scary and renders them somehow untouchable.
We’re all capable of amazing professional and personal accomplishments and rich, nourishing relationships. But sometimes, when we build our goals and priorities up into insurmountably huge obstacles in our minds, we freeze.
Wondering if you do this? I’m willing to venture that you do. Let me give you some examples from my own life and the stories I have been told by clients:
I like to meditate, but in my mind, it sometimes turns into Meditate, with a very capital M. I feel this heavy reverence when I think of it. I feel pressure to Meditate: sit in a perfect lotus position, and not be at all distracted while I meet up with the Dalai Lama in my head each morning before eating a pile of chia seeds and skipping off to a yoga class. And so because this all seems so darn arduous and frankly not fun at all, I skip the whole thing, tell myself I’ll do it tomorrow, and go back to my morning coffee. The next day, it’s lather, rinse, repeat.
A former client brought a proposal to me; she had been asked to write a Book. There were many pros and cons to taking on the project, but a big roadblock was that it was a Book and was thus very important and in need of serious concentration and setting-aside of other priorities. The Book wasn’t fun, but a book (little b) may have been.
I am looking forward to what will likely be an epic hiking trip this summer. When I tell people about the planning and the training, I often hear about how much others would love to Be Outdoorsy, or Go Hiking. You want to know my secret? I think of the West Coast Trail, and really any hike, as just a hike. You know, with a small h.
Small letters keep it all fun.
Are you in a relationship or a Relationship?
In our relationships, how often do we stress out trying to carve out Quality Time with our partner when just sharing space and spending time together would be really, really great? How about getting caught up in Sex, when little-s sex and the comfortable intimacy around it would fill you both up?
We have the tendency to make too many things so damn important, and in the process, we miss incredible joy in the small things that make up life.
Here’s your invitation this week:
Soak up the very presence of your partner. Drop the Date Night and the huge expectation, and just enjoy their sense of humour, their views of the world; laugh together and just be. Let go of the should of it (you should spend time together, you should feel close, it should be easy, etc.) and just delight in their company. When we capitalize anything (Meditate, Book, Sex, Quality Time or anything else), we make it a “should” when it really would be so much more fun as a “get to.”
Try it this week and see what shifts. And don’t be shy about letting it carry over to all the areas of your life: Getting Enough Exercise, Eating Well, Running Your Business, Relaxing With Your Hobbies, Spending Time With Family, and even Creating Memories With Your Children.
Ditch the capitals, and embrace that life can be lowercase and lovely.
get real like sexy real
Tara
Tara Caffelle is a Relationship and Communication coach. She is passionate about creating connected, almost-uncomfortable-to-watch relationships that are based in Sexy Communication and Big Lives worth rolling around in.
Tara is based in the Lower Mainland of Vancouver and offers custom-designed coaching programs. To claim your free 90+ minutes and see what might be possible for your own super coupledom (or persondom), find a time here.
Have a question for Tara? Have an idea for a Hump Day conversation? How about just some thoughts about this thing called life? Let us know here. We’ll answer back. We promise.
Let’s just open this right up by letting y’all know that I self-identify as a Christian. I’ll also let you know that I truly have no idea what that means, other than I’m a Canadian white girl (like as white bread as they come: German, English, Irish and Scottish) who grew up in a neighbourhood with five churches within a ten block radius and from 9-14yrs old I went to the United Church, and loved it, therefore, I think that makes me a Christian-yes?
Almost 30 years later, although married to a self-identifying atheist, I decided to go back again, taking up a seat in the back at our neighbourhood’s Little Red Church. On my way home from my first visit, I cried and cried and cried big wet tears as I rode my bike down the trail to my driveway. No words. No understanding. No story, just gratitude for a place to rest.
Was that religion?
My parents didn’t go to church, my brothers didn’t pray, and most of my friends were the children of first or second generation immigrant families. Every now and then we could catch a glimpse into each other’s family’s wildly different and colourful customs and practices. We were a gaggle of Italian, Filipino and Chinese Roman Catholic, East Indian Hindu with some Sikh, East African Muslim and all of that peppered with a few tried-and-true good-ole-white-bread-Christians. We were like a religious omelette of Vancouver leftovers.
Yet here’s the thing: None of us were confused. None of us were outraged. None of us needed to change each other. In fact, most of us were wildly curious about the customs of our friends. We saw Mendhi for the first time, touched a rosary, received a red envelope, breathed in incense, smelled curry and drank real chai… these are the gifts of a multi-cultural childhood and teenage life. None of us assumed we were ‘right’ about our beliefs (let’s be honest, we didn’t even know what we believed in or why yet). None of us challenged each other’s life-practices. None of us understood faith, we simply lived, and we enjoyed the wonder of it all.
Mendhi
I think I was 9 years old when I decided to go to church with my new bestie who lived across the street. We were the same age, born on the same day, and we both LOVED to sing. Cheryl’s family went to church every Sunday, so one day, I decided to join them, and I loved it. My favourite part was singing in the choir (of course) and having hot tea with milk and sugar after service (sugar cubes are so fancy). I became part of a community who smiled more often than they frowned and I loved that.
I can still hear the comforting sound of my one precious little 25 cent piece drop and hit the felt bottomed collection plate as it was passed around.
And then there was Easter Sunday. The truth is, I had no idea what on earth we were doing, what the story was about, and why on this particular day women wore hats and men wore suits. What I did know is that once upon a time a long long long long long time ago, there was this guy who had been nailed to a cross to die because he said crazy things that scared people. Then he was laid to rest, only to miraculously go MIA after his massive stone was rolled away. Some lookieloos wanted to check in on him you know.
Who rolled the stone? Was that the Easter Bunny? Is that how the rabbit thing ties in?
But wait then this guy named Jesus shows up again neither as a ghost nor man yet he can speak with his friends. How does that work? But Wow… I mean… wow… That’s a super awesome story. I remember thinking: ‘Do my Italian, Filipino, East Indian, Chinese and African friends know about this?’. But you know how it is, it just never came up in conversation.
So what of this Easter Bunny?
Seems kinda nuts doesn’t it? And I’m not slagging it, or religion either.
But what of it?
and why for it?
I mean a dead guy lives?
a bunny poops eggs?
What? Yup. That’s right. A guy in a robe died so we shall live, and a bunny brings us chocolate eggs. And Yes, we believe in them both.
Why?
Because it’s not about religion, it’s about ritual.
It’s not about believing, it’s about loving.
It’s not about Jesus, Buddha, Shiva, Krishna, Muhammad, Yahweh, Jehovah, Elohim, Allah, Shakti, Zeus, Eostra, the Universe, Source… or anyone else, it’s about belonging.
It’s not about the Easter Bunny, it’s celebration.
What if we didn’t have to choose? What if it wasn’t about some but rather all? Here’s what I think:
We don’t have to choose between God or the Easter Bunny, fact or fiction, belief or ignorance, we can choose the power of ritual, of connection, of meaning instead.
Even typing those words makes me want to groan. Connection… blechhhh it sounds so new-agey and trite doesn’t it? I know, let’s all chomp off some chocolate bunny ears, feet and heads and then hold hands ’cause we’re all ‘c o n n e c t e d’ -k?
As if.
Yet, there I was this past weekend with my family, doing what we do, and fifteen years into a familydom, Easter like most holidays now runs like clockwork: Bunny shows up around 5:30am, hidesthe eggs before the house wakes, leaves funny limerick riddles leading the boys to their appropriately sugar stacked chocolate baskets, followed by mama cleaning up with a quick wipe of the bathrooms, then a fast sweep/vacuum/dust, switch gears to placing the mighty lemon themed desserts into the oven, pull out the china, set the table, pour my first glass of wine and…wait until the family arrives.
And then we catch up. We talk about the state of the world (and with the upcoming election in the USA – there’s been a lot to talk about), we cook and then we eat.
Every Easter in our house we start dinner with the great egg smash and if you ask any of the kids at the table what their favourite part of Easter is, I gonna bet they’d say The Smash even before they’d say chocolate. Why? Because it’s fun, it’s silly and it’s a ritual. Everyone counts on it happening every year.
My dad who is not my father nor my daddy but is my dad, is American (long story which I won’t explain today) and he often works during these kinds of holidays but when he’s not he brings his American-ism to the table offering a very traditional grace, blessing our food, each other and thanking God for the bounty before us. It’s a lovely practice for each of us as we all bow our head out of respect following our intrinsic Canadian politeness of doing the right thing, and saying grace out of love for me because I’m the one who usually asks.
This year papa was working so there was no ‘grace’ (I suck at that kinda stuff because it’s not authentic for me yet not false either – confusion leads me no where) so as a result, while the ritual of the egg smash did take place, the deeper meaning of the day never really took hold, well, for me anyway.
Not that religion = depth and smashing eggs = superficial (I suppose you could argue that), but rather our chosen go-to-family-activity didn’t invite us to ‘be’ together: to see and be seen by one another. Too much touchy feely stuff I guess.
I tried.
I always think about Todd’s mom on Easter. I’m not sure why. She passed away in the month of February so that’s not it, but man oh man that lady LOVED FOOD and any CELEBRATION around it, and on this particular Easter I missed her. I raised my glass and toasted the moms in our life, the grandmas, the mommy’s, the mamas and hands that hold us. It was an invitation to start a deeper sense of story before we all chowed down, but it just didn’t take. Sometimes it’s just what the day wants.
I missed it. It felt like I ate cake for dinner instead of meal.
I said to Todd as we were debriefing the day later that night:
I don’t think I know what Easter is all about for me. I mean I get Christmas. Even the biblical story of the baby Jesus, the Virgin Mary, the Wise Men and the Star of Bethlehem touches on the same themes that Hallmark and marketing does: joy, togetherness, celebration, light, and possibility. Thanksgiving is similarly tied (albeit not a religious holiday), our ritual of feasting and gratitude is rooted in the story of the pilgrims and Indians gathering together. The Indian people taught the pilgrims how to grow corn and to fish, and so the pilgrims honoured them with a feast to show their gratitude. But what of Easter? What is the modern day, accessible story of Easter that has roots that we can all understand?
Surely it’s not chocolate, egg smashing and hunting.
Surely there’s more.
I go back to my roots of religion to find my own answer. I turn to the power of story, to meaning, to symbols, to make sense of it all. I said to Todd as we were laying there and I was clearly wrestling with my own disappointment that this Easter we as a family just didn’t ‘get there’, nor was it particularly desired this time. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t seem to invite a deeper meaning to the table, because frankly, I didn’t know what exactly it was that was important to me. I said to him:
This resurrection story thingy is not about a dead guy dying for our sins and it’s not about a bunny pooping eggs either. While both of those interpretations are ‘true’, those stories both honour birth and rebirth. Maybe it’s the story of Spring, of overcoming the deadness of winter and inviting the newness to live again. Are we celebrating life as we acknowledge and honour the reality of death?
Hmmm… that feels honest. That feels inclusive.
So if Christmas = Joy
and Thanksgiving = Gratitude
then Easter can = Growth
Right?
Here’s how the Easter table could’ve gone this year had I figured this out before Sunday:
Tina (Mama of the table):Happy Easter everyone. Today is a day of honouring our growth, acknowledging what we’ve overcome and celebrating what we’re stepping in to. If anyone has anything they’d like to acknowledge, I invite you to do that here. I’ll start:
Me: This is has been a very complex year as Todd and I find each other again, as I heal my body post cancer treatment, as the big boys get step into teenager life, and I decide that I am indeed a writer. I’d like to acknowledge my own courage and patience this year because I’m not someone who walks slowly and methodically and mindfully forward, yet today I am.
Cedar (6 yrs old):Ummmm…. I’d just like to say, I like the sunshine. I like the chocolate. And I fought with Angus about the playstation, but we like each other now.
Connolly (14 yrs old): Yeah, well, ahhh… Just wanna say I scored a hat trick last night and I’ve been working hard at ahhh showing up more on the ice. I doing better with Math too, and ahhh yes, I want to win the Egg Smash. Thanks.
Angus: (12 yrs old): I’m good. I’m good mom. I don’t have anything to say. Yeah. I’m good.
Todd (my husband, and daddy to the boys): I just want to say how proud I am of our family and all we’ve done together this past year. To my wife who is stronger today than yesterday and to all of you, we’re so glad you’re all here. Tomorrow hasn’t happened yet, so let’s raise a glass to tomorrow because we can.
Annnnnd on to the EGG SMASH! May the best egg win!
I strive to have my table be a place where everyone is welcome. I really do search for language that includes, rituals that invite and practices that welcome widely. I still go to my Little Red Church when I can. Mostly in the summer as the long hockey season really trips that up, and funny, just like the house I grew up in, I live in a home where I’m likely the only believer. And that’s okay because we’re all speaking the same language, just not the living the same stories and rituals.
Some of my elementary school friends
When I think back to my circle of childhood and teenage friends, many of whom are still an active part of my 45 year old life, I remember that to us, we weren’t ‘multi-cultural’, we were a gaggle of sneaker wearing, ripped jean sporting and song singing kids. That’s it, that’s all. We created our own community not because we knew the rules or the symbols, we just did it because it felt good.
The rules and absolutes that can be found in religion often divide us, but the rituals we inhabit from their stories are what unite us.
There’s room for both.
Happy Easter – be that the story of resurrection, wabbit ears or something entirely different.
xxT
TinaO is a writer, speaker and the founder of TinaOLife – a hub for all things worth living for, the workshop Live Your Best Story, and her coaching practice: Tall Poppy Living. She’s also a professional network marketer with a decade in the industry and in her Tall Poppy Living for Network Marketers Coaching Program, she teaches: selling isn’t slimey and marketing isn’t make-believe. You can be yourself and be successful in Direct Sales.
It’s a funny thing this Dear Tina practice of mine. I do it for me, but I see now, that I also write them for you.
Dr. Gordon Neufeld speaks of emergent energy and the importance of cultivating time for that in our children’s lives. He suggests that we find out who we are when we’re doing what we do for no other reason than the sheer pleasure of being in the doing of it.
It’s when our doing has no ego.
For example, my strongest memory of this was when I was filling time as a 10 years old one pre-supper time afternoon. I gave myself ninety minutes worth of full on dancing – frolicking really, because I had time to kill before I was to be called in. See I grew up in a rather tumultuous home and going inside to that noise was always the last thing I ever wanted to do, so on that particular day, I decided to… dance. I found wacky ways to wind myself up the old chipped cement steps, entangle my willowy body up and over the black enameled 70’s style railing, roll my arms across the glass bottle stucko, and leap back and forth across our paved walk dotted by my mom’s spring favourites: orange marigolds. Oh yes I did. I can only imagine what our city neighbours thought about this curly haired wild child dancing like a fairy in her front yard. But I learned something about myself that day – though I didn’t know what.
Flash ahead a few months and now I’m running at full tilt down Fraser Street, 49th ave all the way down to 60th to visit some friend of mine (no idea who – clearly didn’t matter). It was summer. I had on lemon yellow shorts, a halter top and too small sneakers but I was on an adventure. Time stood still and I was running. Again, I learned something yet didn’t know what.
And the hours of walking, walking, and still walking, back and forth to my best friend and boyfriend’s house after school. I seemed to never have enough bus fare, so I walked, sometimes for two hours – and that’s a lot of alone time for a 14 year old. I loved it. Again I learned something, still I didn’t know what.
But now, at 45 years old, I do. I know what I was learning.
Dr. Neufeld suggests that it’s in these silent times of doing ‘nothing’ but ‘doing’ for the sheer enjoyment of the ‘do’ – while no one watching, or praising, or noticing – when there is no audience but ourselves that we become fueled by our very own emergent energy, and in doing so, we can listen to the story that is who we are.
We can hear who we are.
This Dear Tina practice that I do – is just that. It’s tapping in to the story that wants to tell me, to the wisdom that is timeless and to the emergent energy that fires up the effortless listening we all have access to.
I’ll write another post about what I didn’t know I was learning later, but if you want a glimpse into that now, here’s a piece I wrote a few years back as I was wrestling with being in my 40s, unsure of my purpose and feeling time tick tick tick. It answers the beginning questions of mine behind whom I’ve always been.
Welcome to Dear Tina #2. If you’re just tuning in to this thread and want a bit more context to what this Dear Tina thing is all about, click here for Dear Tina #1. Bottomline: This is how I listen to what I call my innate wisdom, or soul.
May 2014 – Dear Tina
Your hands needn’t feel small for you have access to the mother of all.
Whichever piece of me you need today – I am here – as father, as mother, as girlfriend, as daughter, as mentor.
I am all for you at all times. Step into my heart beat inside you and let your colours be seen – you are all that is needed. There is no need to impress, simply be. Be in your body, in your stomach that shakes – give of yourself as you always do. Give of you – dear one – you are needed today.
Step into my heart and together we can give it all away.
Happy Easter all. While I’m a woman of spirit, religion isn’t really my thing. Stories that are given as absolutes seem to divide us, but wisdom from those same words and the rituals they create do bring us together.
May you be blessed, warm, colourful, and funnnnnnnnnnn. Smile and tilt your face to the sun. You belong. You are loved.
xxT
TinaO is a writer, speaker and the founder of TinaOLife – a hub for all things worth living for, the workshop Live Your Best Story, and her coaching practice: Tall Poppy Living. She’s also a professional network marketer with a decade in the industry and in her Tall Poppy Living for Network Marketers Coaching Program, she teaches: selling isn’t slimey and marketing isn’t make-believe. You can be yourself and be successful in Direct Sales.
Sending LOVE to those who have walked the path, still run against time, or are now at rest.
There is LIFE after cancer.
Pledging $20+ in the name of your loved one supporting:
Goal #1 $1000 for Can Too (Vancouver Triathlon)
Goal #2 $2500 for the Ride to Conquer Cancer
As a survivor, I swim, bike and run for them, because I still can.
I’m a cancer survivor.
Truth is, I hate that term, but it’s a story people relate to plus, it’s true. In April 2015 I was diagnosed with stage 3 tonsil cancer, HPV p16 immunostaining. Highly cure-able, yet grueling in treatment. I was warned by my doc, my ear nose and throat doc and the oncologist about all that was coming so I was prepared. It was a disgusting process for sure (I won’t get into that now, but if you want to know more I’ll share my story here later). In July 2015 we finished our final treatment and I’m humbled to say that we all made it, and I’m not just talking about ‘not dying’, I’m talking about, we’re all still ‘living’. Me and my family of five, my friends of many, and my community of plenty made it through together and we’re all just that little bit more inspired to be ALIVE today, thus TinaOLife was born.
This 100 Love campaign marks the beginning of my ‘cancer as life-catalyst story’ that found me. I often say, to whom much is given, much is expected, and unfortunately, sometimes what we’re given isn’t always the ‘good’ stuff.
I was given a lot:
To welcome fear to the table, to acknowledge disease as a guest, to choke down the very humanness of treatment, stare into the eyes of helplessness from those who love you the most, choosing to show up in action-yet surrendering to the process, to question: why me? To feel guilty, experiencing survivor remorse as one who seems to have side-stepped the destruction, and to carry on as a survivor (I still feel like I don’t deserve to say that), and knowing that I am so much more than the survivor label because I can still DO something.
So now I am giving back.
I’m 8 months out of treatment with an ‘all-clear’ petscan, everything presenting that we got it all and a stellar prognosis on the horizon, and so today I am choosing to celebrate this awesome body of mine that came back from being broken to celebrate what it can do PLUS pay it forward.
Today I am honouring those who have come before me: your family members, your friends, and your loved ones who have walked this cancer path, those who continue to race against time with their care providers and specialists doing their utmost to keep them alive, and those who are now at rest. This is a pledge page. This summer I will SWIM, BIKE AND RUN in their honour, and I’masking you: Whose names can I carry with me? as I train for two big physical events that promise to push my physical and psychological limits. I’m alive and I am celebrating that.
Here’s how it works:
No pledge is too small, and every $20 (Can Too) / $25 (Ride to Conquer Cancer) pledge with an honouree attached will be celebrated during each event and after. I will run, ride and swim in their name.
You can choose which event you would like to pledge:
EVENT #1 The Vancouver 5i50 Ironman Triathlon July 10th. It’s an olympic distance tri. Oh boy… I can thank my dear friend Adrian for this one.
It’s a 1.5km swim, 40km bike and finishing off with a 10km run.
p.s. the first time I swam with my face in the water I was 28yrs old and I haven’t done it since… I’m 45 yrs old now. This is my biggest challenge.
I am raising $1000 under the Can Too banner an organization that raises funds for cancer research in exchange for a triathlon training program and volunteer coaches to help me along the way. Haven’t heard about Can Too yet? Well, that’s because they’re not technically in Canada yet, (though cross your fingers for the future okay?) however, I can still work with them from a distance.
Can Too is an Australian organization that engages and inspires individuals to achieve personal health, well-being and altruistic goals. Beginners and experienced athletes alike are given professional coaching as part of a team to run, ride or swim in endurance events- including 10km, half-marathon and marathon runs, ocean swims and triathlons.
All pledges raised go towards innovation in the prevention, care and control of cancer through Cure Cancer Australia and Cancer Council NSW.
Today I run, I ride, I swim and I celebrate what this body can do, for me, and for you.
Why? Because I can, and that’s worth sweating for.
EVENT #2The Ride to Conquer Cancer August 27/28th
The Ride to Conquer Cancerbenefiting the BC Cancer Foundation is an epic, two-day cycling event spanning over 200 kilometres through picturesque scenery! Their vision is clear – A World Free From Cancer.
With some highschool (Patrick Phang) and elementary school friends (David Tam) behind me (yes, it’s true), I’ve decided to cycle 200km over two days. Thanks to Spin Cycle Bike Store in Gibsons on the Sunshine Coast, I have a new LIV bike to the ride too. They rock and I’m thrilled to have them on my ‘tri’ and ‘ride’ team. Whewwwwf!
Doing this ride post cancer treatment myself, I get to reclaim the cyclist in me who used to love the freedom of cycling before having children. Once again I’ll feel the strength in my legs and feel the wind in my hair. I’m soooooo looking forward to this ride!
The money you pledge for The Ride to Conquer Cancerwill benefit BC Cancer Foundation and support leading clinicians, scientists, and researchers whose search for new discoveries and improved patient outcomes will have a real impact in our communities throughout the province, across Canada, and around the world.
Each week I will update our list of honourees. Please know that once you PLEDGE to either cause, I will followup with an email to you confirming the name of your loved one and if you’d like to send me a photo, I’ll use that too in my 100 person square that will look something like this only with 100 faces:
Today, this is where it all begins. I have just three names on my list so far and I wish it could stay that way because that would mean we’ve found the solution. For now, we begin where we are and we move forward from here.
Here’s to the people you love.
and here’s to you for making a difference.
xxT
FOR TODAY, MARCH 23rd, I train for:
My mom, Peggy Overbury
My dad, Norman Overbury (while not cancer, emphyzema instead, he died from years of smoking and I have no doubt that cancer would’ve come quickly).
and My mother in law, Barb Ingram
xxT
Make your pledge to CAN TOO – supporting my very first triathlon by clicking here.
Make your pledge to the RIDE TO CONQUER CANCER – supporting my August ride by clicking here.
Want to join the team? Run? Bike? Swim? with me? Send me a message here and we’ll connect okay?
When I was little, my family spent a lot of time at my grandparents’ cabin. It was about an hour from our house and we would drive there for the weekend so Dad could help Grampa with the property. I think Dad likely resented having to give up his weekends to labour away, but I have nothing but warm memories of my time there. I remember how I always, always got carsick on the drive, and the smell of the canvas life jacket I had to wear in the boat, and having a bath in the kitchen sink before I was old enough to have a shower in the stall. We would play cards, roam the woods in search of adventure and chase minnows and frogs from the dock. Now that both of my grandparents are gone, these memories are particularly sweet.
After a long weekend of work, it was finally time for some fishing and relaxation in the boat. We would all clamour in to troll around the lake, and I remember so clearly being invited to sit on my Grampa’s lap and steer the boat. I am pretty sure I beamed at the very idea of doing such a grown-up thing.
I would always get excited and madly turn the wheel, tilting the boat so it looked like it was about to flip over, which made my Gramma yelp and hold onto the seat.
My Grandfather would patiently remind me:
“Make small turns, and let it straighten out.”
(I remember him being patient, but I have a feeling there may have also been some very-loving shouts.)
It turns out my Grampa was pretty brilliant.
Yes, it made the ride in the boat smoother, and kept my beloved Gramma from heart failure, but my Grampa’s message resonated far beyond our boat ride. It is something I apply now to my life, my relationships and also my work.
Do we often see what we want to be different and then dive in, too far, too fast? Do we take the wheel and make a sharp turn that can’t be sustained without tipping over?
You bet your sweet ass we do.
It’s great to want to shift things in your lifes. It’s wonderful to want to be your very best self for your relationship. And it’s never a bad idea to try and transition and improve. The key in making any of these changes is to make them gradually and at a sustainable pace.
What does this mean for your relationships?
If you want to prioritize spending more time together as a couple, start with 15 minutes a day of connecting and talking about more than groceries and soccer practice. Ask your partner what they would have you do to support them in what they are wanting to do and who they are wanting to be.
If you would like your family to be healthier, avoid the drastic changes in diet and change one thing at a time. Find something fun for you all to do together.
If you want more physical intimacy in your relationship, start with non-sexual touching throughout the day; greet your partner warmly when they arrive home and tell them how happy you are to see them.
If you think you’d like a whole different career, don’t just quit your job: that could be seen as irresponsible. Instead, be intentional about your spare time, choose hobbies that are connected to the field you want to transition into, and make incremental (and sustainable) choices.
And most importantly, remember that it’s all in the recovery. When you do over steer, gently return to centre, and then keep going. Keep that boat upright.
Get Real, like Sexy Real
Tara
Tara Caffelle is a Relationship and Communication coach. She is passionate about creating connected, almost-uncomfortable-to-watch relationships that are based in Sexy Communication and Big Lives worth rolling around in.
Tara is based in the Lower Mainland of Vancouver and offers custom-designed coaching programs. To claim your free 90+ minutes and see what might be possible for your own super coupledom (or persondom), find a time here.
Have a question for Tara? Have an idea for a Hump Day conversation? How about just some thoughts about this thing called life? Let us know here. We’ll answer back. We promise.
It will be a year next month from when I picked up my cel phone while in Vegas during a conference to receive the news that the wacky black thing that had been growing in the back of my throat was indeed, not a tonsil crypt but instead was most definitely cancer.
Doc says:“We’re as shocked as you. While we knew there was a chance that it could be, none of us thought that this is what the biopsy would come back as. I wanted to reach you as soon as I could. I’m boarding a plane in ten minutes…”
Some doctors are called to be doctors. Clearly the level of mindfulness and care by my ears nose and throat specialist is from the ‘calling’ ilk. I wasn’t just a test result on a piece of paper. Note how I called him MY doctor. That happens when you’re handing your body over to an expert other than you.
He was going on vacation (or so I think), and wanted to catch me before he was unavailable in the air. He had left me a message the day before, but I don’t pick up voice mail that often (that’s what voice mail is for folks), so he left me a text to call him on his personal cel phone. To him, I was a mom, a wife, a writer, an artist. I have a history and a future and the sooner he could reach me the better.
To me, he is a man who cares, with a specialty in the ear nose and throat department. Thank you Dr. Smith. (No kidding, his name is Dr. Smith).
After the diagnosis came in… well, that’s a whole other post, book actually. It’s on the move through me but hasn’t arrived in full yet. For now, I want to share with you a little something that changed my life. That sounds ominous, and while cancer is totally that, what I stumbled into is not. See, a whole year before the C word arrived, I had started working with Chris Dierkes, whom I now call my ‘soul guy’ or the ‘soul dude’ of TinaOLife. He’s a soul interpreter (What the hell is that right? – no pun intended). Well, it’s difficult to explain the intangible (soul) with the tangible (words), but here it is in brief:
“Okay Tina, so think of it this way. I’m going go to the ‘soul library’ and check out your ‘book’. Then I’m going to read it and share it with you so you can fully realize it”.
Ohhhhhhh… that’s all. So, you’re taking my book out of the library? Cool. Got it. And then I’m going to get to know myself? Ohhh okay. Well, that’s how it made sense to me anyway.
See, soul work doesn’t make sense, it feels sense. For me that’s been my experience anyway.
So, what is the Dear Tina thing and how does it connect with cancer and with Chris and with soul work???
As you can imagine, post diagnosis, I was thrown into mental chaos. It was as if I was a pile of sticks: legs upon ribs, jaw upon pelvis, toes upon teeth, thoughts upon terror, blank upon nothingness, despair upon acceptance. I was sifting through the gnarly bits because within them was me, a timeless me. One who was here before my body arrived and one who would continue on once my body left. FYI… it’s not that I didn’t ‘get’ all of this before, it’s just that once I was thrust into the world of time passing without hearing a clock ticking because there is no fucking clock – well, it all just kinda fell into place because I was now out of the way. Trauma has a way of doing that. It cuts through the noise of what we call knowledge or understanding. Hmmmmm… like really? Who cares how much you think you know at times like this. It’s cliché but true, you can’t take it with you.
I couldn’t hear myself think anymore, or maybe that’s not really true. I could hear everything I thought, the issue was that everyone in my head was talking all at once. I couldn’t hear what I think… Just all what all of my experiences think. You get that right? All the voices in our head are just reactions to the various experiences we’ve had in our lifetime. I fell down the stairs once, now I have a voice that says: hold on to the railing. I’ve been heartbroken before, now I have a voice that says: go slow, trust slow if ever. I’ve been applauded before, now I have a voice that says: you rock, you got this, step out lady! See? Those are voices from my stories past, but they’re not me as in not, fully, wholly, without reaction me. Those are just my fragments talking (not soul fragments either – oh it’s so intricate isn’t it?).
So… there I was digging through bones from fragments past and I couldn’t hear the peaceful voice. You have one too. The voice that was with you when you were little and swinging your feet up to the sky all by yourself. The voice that woke you in the morning while you were still sleeping feeling the warm summer sun on your face. The voice that you hear when you were nestled deep, resting your cheek on your mama’s stretchy post baby belly. The voice you can sometimes hear as an adult if you spend enough time with yourself. That voice. That’s the one I was craving to hear.
and then just like that, with a few deep breaths and a lot of following instead of leading, I began to listen to the answers to many of my questions.
Some people call it automatic writing with the idea that the pen moves without you moving it, like a spirit coming through you – mehhhhhh… maybe. Who am I to say that it is or it isn’t? I’m not interested in holding a position on it, I just know that when I surrender to the process of letting the story tell me instead of the other way around, I can hear that loving, peaceful voice again and I’m 45 years old in the centre of crazy town and not five and blissed out on my mama’s lap.
I think of this process as more of a way to cut through the noise and really listen to what my innate wisdom (or soul) wants to say.
After the cancer diagnosis came in, I needed to write because I needed to hear. This is what this post is all about. It’s not about automatic writing and how to do it, it’s about what I heard and what I learned.
Here it is for you. I am starting a series of Dear Tina posts on TinaOLife as a way to invite you in to the world and words that speak to and through me.
Dear Tina, Dear Tina, Dear Dear Dear Tina, What is going on in my body?
(I often keep repeating myself until I feel the ‘click’ of letting go of my own thoughts – call it ego if you like).
Dear Tina, what is the story of this cancer in my body?
Why do you call it cancer Tina? It’s a name only. Breathe Tina, you may not be ready to hear this.
I am listening.
You are dying Tina. Your body is not dying. Your body is not dying. Your body is fine. Your body is holding a piece that is dying. You are dying. You as you as you have been is dying – this time this view of you is dying, this thought, this way is dying. You are dying Tina – your body is fine.
There have been years of you. There is years in the thing you call cancer. You can let it die. You can radiate it, chemo it, destroy it. You are dying, not your body. Let it die.
Let it leave your body. Let the doctors do what they must. You can let it die.
Do not fight the death of this, do not resist the death of this, this wants to die, and has been dead for a long time, the spirit of you died and has wanted to leave for a long time but you have kept holding on, kept transforming it into something else. It is time to let it die.
A new you is transcending – a new you is waiting to move in, a new you like teeth is ready to come down into place. This is death Tina and not the kind you know death to be.
Tina it is okay. Let it die. Your body is fine.
Soooooo… as you can imagine, I was a little startled. That’s the thing about surrendering to the unknown – you don’t know what’s gonna come out of you until it arrives.
My take on this, and let me tell you, the truth of this message knocked me down like the anvil of grief that it was, I got it. I had been living my ‘old, dramatic, deep, sad life’ for far too long. I had been building accomplishment after goal after success on top of a graveyard of grief, and it was costing me dearly. I was clutching and white knuckling the old dead scars of my story as my identity for so long that the powers that be decided to turn up the dial on my experience so I could wake the fuck up and decide to live.
Get it?
That’s enough for today’s Dear Tina… I just wanted to let you in. There will be more, I assure you. I jumped in today with Dear Tina for TinaOLife because I’ve been impossible to live with for the last week or so. I’m full of resentment and walking in a fog… I have had no idea why. I decided to ask myself for some more answers, but I’ll share what I discovered later. For now… consider yourself invited in.
Welcome.
p.s…. I’m feeling so much better. Clearly, all I needed was to be listened to. Thank you Dear Tina.
About: Don’t miss this show show between country-noir / folk-country artists and old friends Rodney DeCroo + The Wise Blood and Carolyn Mark!
Rodney DeCroois a songwriter, poet and playwright. He has released 6 full-length albums, an album of poetry set to music (Allegheny), a book of poetry (Allegheny, BC) and a theatre production (Stupid Boy in an Ugly Town) that received critical acclaim at several Canadian fringe and writers festivals. DeCroo wrestles with regret, loss, aging, love, memory, death, art—always with his own ongoing recovery embedded in the background. DeCroo’s album and performances draw upon his greatest natural resource—his poetry.
Oh boy. These are not the days I usually write about. You know the ones… You have them too. You go to work and pretend to be doing stuff, pushing paper around, clicking pens, opening and closing drawers and going to the bathroom more times than your bladder requires you to. Or maybe you’re at home wandering around, loading the dishwasher, or thinking about it anyway, heating and reheating the same disgusting cup of coffee, pressing START on the microwave again… Perhaps you’re actually up and at it as I am. Yes I had a shower, well actually I drew myself a hot bath with unwind salts and bubbles, after I grabbed my latest Robin Sharma find from my local 2nd hand store and succumbed for a few minutes into the hot water and my nastily drab and dark mood. I gave over. I said:
‘okay bad mood, you’ve moved in today so I may as well hang out with you awhile’.
I’m dressed. I even put on tights and a tunic. I threw an old pair of heels into my purse (so old so so so old is it possible I’ve had them since 1995?) so I can head out to Vancouver Fashion Week later on after my son’s hockey game.
But do I want to be here? Hell no.
Do I want to be productive? Are you freakin’ kidding me?
Do I care if my family eats dinner tonight? Nope. Not a bit.
I’m having as Alexander would say ‘a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day’. Yes I am, and I’m not even in Australia. (That’s not an Aussie slam, it’s a line from the book).
Why pretend? It’s just a crap day. The weather doesn’t have a clue what it’s doing. My youngest is getting yet another cold, my eldest is having a teenage temper tantrum about not getting the iphone6 (are you freaking kidding me? Get your head outta your…), and my middle child – well, he’s on the bench as the back up goalie today and I’m…
waiting.
I’m waiting.
I’m waiting.
For my mood to change, for the sun to come out, for tomorrow to come and rattle my boots and shake my teeth and pitch my resistant soul into the sky like a hot air balloon.
It’s a ‘nothing to say here’ kinda post except to remind me and you and everyone else the universal truth of being ALIVE that – ‘mama said there’d be days like this’.
So suck it up princess and be grateful you have a frickin’ voice in your body to connect to the world with.
Ah yes. See? I feel ever so lightly a bit better already. Thanks for listening. Truth is, for most of us, that’s all it takes to begin to believe that the next moment in front of us is worth opening our hearts for.
I spent the last week and a half of February in Colombia: I attended a dear friend’s wedding, and then I relaxed at a tiny resort where the biggest decision of my day was choosing a hammock in which to have my afternoon nap. It was glorious. And quiet. In more ways than one.
See, Colombia isn’t a country that speaks a lot of English. And I am not a traveler who speaks a lot of Spanish. You do the math.
What I learned: People in Colombia wanted me to eat, to be safe, to have a good time.
I survived with big smiles, excited clapping, pointing at menus, Google translator (when I had wifi), listening carefully for familiar words, and speaking loudly and slowly. (Oh yes, I did.)
My last morning in Colombia had me feeling stressed; I had complicated transfers beginning at 4 am from a somewhat-remote resort via taxi to the nearby town where I would connect with two different buses before reaching the airport that would take me to a major city for a connecting flight back to Canada.
WHEW!
Add to the stress the fact that I didn’t have quite enough cash to pay my various drivers along the way and would need to find a machine somewhere early on. An English-speaking staff member at the resort had lovingly arranged my entire trip for me, but I knew it was unlikely she would be around at 4 am to translate any further.
I thought ahead: I packed and was ready the night before, set a couple of alarms, and translated phrases I thought I might need into my phone and took screen shots that I could show them along the way.
Here’s what happened: I accidentally ordered a bottle and not a glass of wine at dinner the night before I left, and not wanting to waste it, I drank a lot of it and basically passed out. I woke up in plenty of time for my alarm, in my clothes, with the lights still on. I checked out of the resort with ease, met my driver, showed him my translation that said “Can we go to a cash machine so I can pay you?” and off we went.
I felt completely safe and taken care of. When the first banco machin-o didn’t work for my card, we looked for another, and each time, he stood outside the door and waited for me. We were a team.
Soon, I wasn’t worried about making my connections and even grabbed the tiniest of cat naps once I was safely on the bus.
It’s like I always say: we are in relationship with everyone we interact with.
For those brief moments, with my gruff, Spanish-speaking driver, we shared an intimacy that I am still talking about a week later.
I think that universally there is desire to connect, the same way our bodies want to maintain health. If we shoot Botox into our face, our muscles actually work around it and want to get back to what’s normal. This is why, if you use poison to still your beautiful facial expression lines, you need to repeat the treatment over and over again.
Similarly, we humans crave connection. When we don’t have it, due to language barriers or other zany circumstances, we find our way back to it.
Relationship wants to happen.
Stop fighting it. So many times, we get in conflict with each other and don’t realize that things just want to run smoothly. Rather than get in the way of it all the time, I invite you to consider what you can do and say that will create more intimacy with the people in your life. How can you join with the people around you to become team mates?
Try it and let me know what you discover. You don’t even have to go all the way to Colombia (although you could—they are lovely people and they will be very amused by your excited clapping when you finally decide what you’d like to order for dinner!).
Tara
Get Real, like Sexy Real
Tara Caffelle is a Relationship and Communication coach. She is passionate about creating connected, almost-uncomfortable-to-watch relationships that are based in Sexy Communication and Big Lives worth rolling around in.
Tara is based in the Lower Mainland of Vancouver and offers custom-designed coaching programs. To claim your free 90+ minutes and see what might be possible for your own super coupledom (or persondom), find a time here.
Have a question for Tara? Have an idea for a Hump Day conversation? How about just some thoughts about this thing called life? Let us know here. We’ll answer back. We promise.
Never did I ever think that blogging would lead me to this. Never did I imagine that I would ever share an image of my very own post baby ‘belly purse’, forever dimpled and dripping lightly, just over my waist band.
It’s not to be confused with a muffin top – though that would be much cuter don’t you think?
It’s not to be mistaken for flabby abs either – though that would be an inviting challenge if they were.
And it’s certainly not to be represented as a flagrant invitation to judge, advise or congratulate me on my extra bits either.
I didn’t write this post to take a stand, no, I wrote it in solidarity from one women (me) to another woman, the truly courageous Gillian Goerzen for the stand that SHE took and her call to action for all of us women who judge our own bodies.
This is what I woke up to this morning as I was coming through my 5:30am fog, making my hubby’s lunch, putting the kettle on for coffee (we like a french press – no drip for us), tossing the first load of laundry in while listening for the pop of his breakfast bagel in the toaster. How could I not respond after seeing this in my Facebook feed?
OMG I thought… That’s what I look like when I plank. I thought it was only me. Only I have the belly purse. Only I didn’t lose the extra flabby bits after my three babies. Only I carry this dimply baggage around with me every day, never to be left at the door.
But no. I’m NOT the only one. It’s just that no one talks about it and heavens to Betsy – definitely, nobody, as in nobody shows it. Thank you Gillian… Here is her post that encouraged me to do the same.
Gillian Goerzen –Yesterday, I had an opportunity to share my story with a crowd of over 100 women for International Women’s Day. One of the images I shared was this one. You might wonder – why would you share this?
I first shared this image in one of my private fitness and nutritional accountability groups. After losing 70 lbs and having two beautiful boys, this is what my stomach looks like in a plank. And it is the area of my body I’m still quite uncomfortable with. But I shouldn’t be! My stomach is a beautiful thing – it’s a badge of honour. It grew and made room for two beautiful boys.
I shared it with my group to start a conversation. Because this “flaw” I see – represents a tendency of our society – especially women – to focus on what we DON’T like. It represents everything about the image of the fitness and diet industry that I believe holds us back from truly having a healthy relationship with food and fitness.
Yesterday Michelle asked if I would share it publicly on Facebook. I said maybe. It’s scary being vulnerable. It’s raw and unedited. It’s real. But I share this because I want to start a dialogue. I want to help women put their foot down. To say NO to the social programming of diet mentality that tells us we’re not good enough. To stop negative self-talk. To speak to themselves the way they would speak to their best friend – or their child. I want women to create a healthy relationship with food and fitness. To say NO to extreme diets and fads. To be a realistic and healthy example for their children – for their community. To create a ripple effect.
I post this today because I want to start a ripple. One woman at a time. One conversation at a time.
Sharing my journey was a deeply personal act – it was a vulnerability victory for me. Vulnerability is my STRENGTH. Because vulnerability connects us all. It helps us all relate and feel empathy and compassion for one another and ourselves. And when we have that – we are truly unstoppable.
How could I not respond? Here is what I posted, and her answer back to me:
So to all of you women out there on International Women’s Day – be brave, be vulnerable, be real, and love the SKIN you are in.
TinaO is a Writer, Story Coach, and Host of the TinaOShow, collecting and telling Stories from the Core. She’s the co-owner of The LEAP Learning Lab with Gina Best, and the other half of The Writer’s Compass with Meribeth Deen. She says: Stories are like toddlers, they will follow you around, tugging, hanging off of you until you listen to them. TinaO is the founder of Live Your Best Story, a weekend retreat of deep listening using writing, storytelling, nature, nourishment, art and connection as a way to listen to the personal story within. The retreat is held in various locations around the world, and is always offered 3x/year in British Columbia where she lives. All are welcome.
As always… let me know your thoughts. They’re always welcome.
