Dance Space

Namaste and Welcome. I’m McDowell Graham, founder of Cracks in Consciousness, where the world is more than we know.

For today’s thought shifting session, I want to talk about self-isolation and its effects on our well-being – physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually.

Right now, countless blogs, videos, FB Live sessions, and Twitters are available that talk about the need for social distancing and self-isolation. I’ve seen lots of recommendations and suggestions for how to accomplish both.

But I haven’t seen much about the reality of self-isolation, specifically, how we navigate our daily lives in the seemingly constant, in some cases, 24/7 physical presence of others we share our homes with. And I call this, “Dance Space.”

In my business, I use Intuitive Mentoring to help share information that might be difficult for beginners to grasp on their own. Mentoring enables the student to learn valuable life lessons from the mentor’s experiences, mistakes, challenges, and obstacles, which can ease the way as they continue on their life journey and step into the unknown.

As it turns out, I have extensive experience with self-isolation, which I hope might help some of you during this time.

More that 15 years ago, I chose to live as a self-isolationist. Of course, 15 years ago, it wasn’t called that – and it certainly wasn’t acceptable. People like me were called hermits and anti-social. Now, how I live my life is suddenly “in vogue.” Who knew?

One of the most fundamental “new realities” of a pandemic world that most of us are facing now is finding ourselves in close physical proximity to everyone in our households 24/7. And, for most of this, this is an entirely new experience that we were unprepared for.

Just a few short weeks ago, our children would be out of the house at school. We went to work or to the gym or grocery store, often alone. And in those moments, we had physical separation from each other. And I believe that moments of physical separation is as vital to our well-being as physical touch is.

So what is the “Dance Space”?

Many of you have heard me say this many times: “This is my dance space, this is your dance space. I don’t go into your space, you don’t come into mine.”

Okay, in full disclosure, yes, it’s from the Patrick Swayze movie called, “Dirty Dancing.”

You never know where the big idea might come from.

(And since everyone is home binging on old movies, if you know the movie that the quote comes from about big idea, put it in the Comments. And well done you!)

In the dance space scene, Patrick Swayze is explaining to Baby how to maintain physical distance, while as the same time, moving fluidly and in synch together. The physical distance – the Dance Space – is essential to the dance.

And now, I’m guessing that for most of you, people are in your dance space. And I’m also guessing that for most you, you’re finding this to be uncomfortable, or tiring, or emotionally overwhelming, or just plain annoying. At the same time, you also might feel guilty about not enjoying this enforced “crowding” of your personal space.

But you have no idea now to maintain your Dance Space and to find the balance between separateness and togetherness.

So let’s talk about a few tools you can use to find this very important sacred place.

The first tool is giving yourself permission to create physical separation. If you’re lucky enough to have a place you can go in the house to be alone, go there. If not, sit in your car and listen to music. Go outside by yourself and simply breathe the fresh air. Just a few minutes of physical separation from your loved ones can restore your sense of self and oneness and your desire to be with others.

The second dandy tool you can use is called, “The Eightfold Fence.” It’s a poem from the “Kojiki,” the oldest surviving book of Japanese myths and stories from around AD 712.

Eight clouds arise. The eightfold fence of Izumo makes an eightfold fence for the spouses to retire [within]. Oh! that eightfold fence.

The Eightfold Fence is a tool of sanity. It is a spiritual wall behind which we can withdraw and disengage from the emotions that flood our conscience. Remember, we are all energetic beings. Being in a defined space not only confines us physically, it also confines us energetically. You might be experiencing not only your OWN emotions – fear, concern about the future, uncertainty – but you are also energetically participating in everyone else’s emotions.

From within the Eightfold Fence, we can smile when we are sad. It is the protection from senseless tragedy, the gates that are slowly opened to loved ones, the place where secret ambition is guarded, and perhaps the one thing each person can know is entirely unique to themselves.

So at any point during the day, if you feel your Dance Space eroding, you can erect your own Eightfold Fence like this:

1. Close your eyes.
2. Picture a fence that encircles you in love and light. Make the fence as dense or as “see-through” as you like. A privacy fence, a picket fence, a fence of green trees. It doesn’t matter what it’s made out of. It’s your fence – just be sure that you resonate with it.
3. Now, cleanse your mind of people – watch the sunset, listen to the rain or the birds singing, see the falling snow. If you really listen, if you really see, the present vanishes. You are alone and safe.

Do this anytime you need to honor your physical self.


The last tool you can use is one I use often: the White Light of Protection. This is especially helpful when you’re feeling emotionally overwhelmed. White Light is used to help you to clear your energetic space and protect you from negativity. It’s amazingly simple, and here’s how I do it:

1. Close your eyes.
2. Circle your hand and repeat: “I surround myself with the White Light of Protection. Nothing but love can enter within. Nothing but love can emerge from within. I am safe. I am myself.”
3. Now, picture being “encased” in a shimmering bubble of light and love

That’s it. Do this any time you need to be apart in your own energetic space.

Perception is a Matter of Choice

Reprinted in honor of my soulmate, Kona, who passed away six years ago today.

From 2002 to 2012, I shared my life with the love of my life: a plush-coat Czechoslovakian Shepherd named Kona. He meant everything to me, and I couldn’t imagine my life without him.

He wasn’t the dog I was “supposed” to get. I wanted a solid black male. When the litter that I had placed a deposit on was born, there were two males, and one of them was all black. See, I told myself, it was meant to be. I had first pick of the males, and so I chose Black Boy. Fortunately, the Universe knew better than I did.

About a week after the puppies were born, the breeder asked me if I would consider taking the other male. Apparently, the family who had also placed a deposit on a male from this litter used to have a solid black that had passed away just a year before, and they were still heartbroken. “The kids have their hearts set on getting another black Shepherd,” the breeder told me. “So would you consider taking the other male?” I certainly wasn’t going to add to some child’s heartache, so I agreed to let them have “my” puppy.

And so, in the end, I got the dog that I really was supposed to get. Because he would turn out to be the dog that would change my life.

I love dogs. Charles Schultz said it best when he declared, “Happiness is a warm puppy.” Although in my case, “happiness” didn’t begin to describe how I felt about my Kona. Because what I felt for Kona took my breath away.

At night, I would lay next to him, listening to his quiet breathing, and sometimes stroking his long, soft fur. Every single time, my heart would fill with joy and gratitude that such a wonderful dog had come into my life.

Kona, on the other hand, didn’t feel quite the same way. He would sleepily crack open one eye and give me that look that said, “Yes, Mommy, I love you to the moon and back, too. But, I’d like to go back to sleep now, if you don’t mind.”

Life was unendingly good.

But then, in 2008, Kona was diagnosed with a life-threatening medical condition. The prognosis for dogs with Kona’s diagnosis was bleak at best; one vet told me that the longest any of his patients had lived after the diagnosis was three weeks. He also said that the dogs usually died instantly and with no warning—sometimes in their sleep or, more often than not, while playing or even just taking an easy walk around the block. He warned me that the only chance Kona had of surviving was to keep him quiet, avoiding stress, stimulation, excitement, and exercise of any kind. And he cautioned me not to get my hopes up for any reason because Kona’s situation was, in fact, hopeless, and only a miracle could save him.

To say I was devastated doesn’t come close to describing how I felt. I barely heard a word the vet was telling me, and I cried for two days.

I kept trying to imagine my life without him, but that turned out to be as hopeless as Kona’s prognosis. After all, Kona was my protector (I lived alone in a remote area, but never felt afraid), my constant companion, my confidant. My soul-puppy.

And now he was going to be taken from me?

No, I thought, I can’t bear that.

And so, I decided that I had no choice. Whether or not I liked it, whether or not Kona liked it, we would have to do exactly what Kona’s vet said had to be done if Kona was going to “live,” even though it didn’t seem like it would be much of a life for either of us. And, having decided this, I didn’t know which was worse—thinking that I had no choice, or picturing how awful and fearful every moment would be from this moment on.

But then, something miraculous did happen. Just not the miracle I was “supposed” to get.

I thought about something that Kami Garcia wrote in Beautiful Darkness, “We don't get to choose what is true. We only get to choose what we do about it.”

And at that moment, I realized that I did, in fact, have a choice: I might not be able to change the situation, but I could change my perception of the situation. And, simply by choosing to change my perception, I could also change how I felt about it and what I could do about it.

And so, I wondered, if that’s true, then what choices do I really have?

Well, I could choose to let this news fill me with fear every remaining moment I had with Kona. I could, as the vet suggested, lock him in the house, never take him for long walks again, never let him chase birds or rabbits, never leave him alone for a single moment “just in case.” The only exercise he would have from this moment forward would feel like one slow, inexorable death march.

Or. . . .

I could choose to be grateful for every remaining moment I had with him. We could go on as we always had, him racing after the rabbits, excitedly barking at the cats next door, flushing the birds out of the trees, trotting alongside me on my morning jog—aware of the possible consequences, but consciously choosing to live our lives to the fullest.

Nelson Mandela said, “May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears.” And so, I chose my second option, and decided to live life as hopefully and as free from fear as possible.

Which Kona and I did—not just for three short weeks, but, miraculously, for four more spectacular years!

Which is not to say that I didn’t have to come up with a plan for facing my fears and dealing with Kona’s condition realistically for however much time we had left together. Kona had good days and bad. He saw a posse of specialists monthly, and underwent quarterly monitoring to record the rhythm of his heart. And each time we went to the vet, each time a new test was run, and I waited nervously for the results, I was faced with the same choice: see this as a blessing, not a curse. Be glad for our time together or live in constant, never-ending dread that our time was drawing to an end.

Admittedly, I am optimistic by nature. But the choices I had to make during those final four roller-coaster years with Kona went far beyond trying to keep my cup-half-full attitude. Because there were countless days when Kona’s long-term prognosis was that his cup had run dry. Nights, when I stroked his lovely fur while he was sleeping, and my heart would fill with joy and gratitude, like it always had—except that now, it was for a different reason: simply because he was still breathing.

And when each new day dawned, and Kona had survived another night, I would chose, once again, to continue on as we had the day before.

Epictetus said, “If you are distressed by anything external, the pain is not due to the thing itself, but to your estimate of it; and this you have the power to revoke at any moment. It is not so much what happens to you as how you think about what happens.”

Surely, there can be nothing more powerful, and empowering, than knowing we can choose how to perceive, and then respond to, whatever life throws at us. And, when things happen to us, the potential to turn them into good things is always available. Not always easy, but always possible.

Perception is a matter of choice. I have a choice every day regarding the perceptions I will embrace for that day. Learning to change my perception has helped me more readily accept and engage the difficulties of life and how I respond to the experience.

I don’t always choose wisely. But I choose. Granted, some choices are easier to make than others, like what to wear to work or what to have for dinner, than, say, choosing to quit a job or end a relationship. Choosing not to give up, no matter how dire or hopeless or just plain unmanageable things may seem.

Albert Einstein said, “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” My years with Kona taught me the most valuable lesson I can ever hope to learn: No matter what happens, I can choose how to perceive the events that make up my life. And, it is this power of choice that makes life endurable, worthwhile, joyful, just plain manageable—or miraculous.

Today, I think I’ll choose miraculous.

There Are Always Options--Even When You Lock Yourself in a Barn on New Year's Day

The author, Christiane Northrup, said this: “Our souls design many potent wake-up calls to get our attention back on track.” As it turned out, it only took one potent wake-up call for me to figure out how to extricate myself from any situation. Because everything I needed to know about finding my way out of any situation I learned by locking myself in a barn on New Years Day, 2005!

I’m going to begin by sharing with you a story from one of my favorite TV shows, “The West Wing.” Leo McGarry tells Josh Lyman this story.

This guy’s walking down the street when he falls in a hole. The walls are so steep he can’t get out.

A doctor passes by and the guy shouts up, “Hey you. Can you help me out?” The doctor writes a prescription, throws it down in the hole, and moves on.

Then a priest comes along and the guy shouts up, “Father, I'm down in this hole, can you help me out?” The priest writes out a prayer, throws it down in the hole, and moves on.

Then a friend walks by. “Hey Joe, it’s me, can you help me out?” And the friend jumps in the hole. Our guy says, “Are you stupid? Now we’re both down here.” The friend says, “Yeah, but I’ve been down here before and I know the way out.”

I don’t know about you, but I have to admit that I’ve fallen into a hole with steep walls and no obvious way out more than a few times in my life.

Now I’m a business process engineer by profession, which means that it’s my job to help companies figure out how to scale their own steep walls of inefficiency and falling profits. How to find a way out of any mess, and turn that mess into a success.

And, over the years, I figured out how to apply what I’ve learned as a process engineer in the corporate world to my own life, to get out of any hole I’ve fallen into.

So are you like me? Have you ever found yourself in a steep hole and couldn’t figure out a Way Out?

Well move over! Today I’m going to jump down into that deep hole with you and show you the way out.

Today, you’ll learn a simple three-step cure for curing what I call The No Way Out Syndrome once and for all! It’s your personal roadmap to seeing the way out of any hole you might have fallen into, scaling those steep walls, and finally climbing out.

So, how and when did I find this amazing cure?

January 1, 2005.

A day of possibilities. We close the door on the past year. We look forward to the coming year.

And so it was with me in 2005.

I began the day by closing the door, not only on the past year, but on the last 20 years of my life as well. I was packing up the rest of the things that belonged to my about-to-be ex-husband who had moved out two months before.

And I was looking forward to the coming year, and the rest of my life, with a little fear but also with lots of hope and excitement!

I had been packing up my husband’s things for several weeks. And, whenever I had a few boxes for him to pick up, I’d leave them down in the barn so he could retrieve them when I was at work. Out of sight, out of mind, as they say.

On this day, New Years Day, 2005, I packed up the rest of his tools, loaded the toolbox and the dogs into the car, and drove down to the barn, which is about 2 acres behind my house, and about 3 acres away from my nearest neighbor’s house.

Let’s be clear about one thing: to call this structure a “barn” is probably a stretch. It’s really just a big storage shed. The walls and the doors are just plywood boards that are 4 feet wide and 8 feet high. The roof is corrugated metal tacked onto the top of the plywood walls.

I don’t have horses or any kind of livestock. Which means that I’ve never actually used the barn to stable anything other than some boxes and suitcases. Which also means that there’s no water or electricity. Plus, there are windows, but they’re boarded up with pieces of plywood.

So I drive down to the barn, let the dogs out of the car, grab the toolbox, and go to open the barn door.

Again, calling this a barn door is another stretch, just like the rest of the barn. It’s just one of the 4-foot-wide by 8-foot-high piece of plywood. It’s attached to the barn by two gate hinges, and there’s a big gate latch on the outside that keeps the door securely closed.

Now, because the door is pretty big and just attached with two gate hinges, if you want to keep the door open, you have prop it open with a big piece of concrete.

But on this day, I wasn’t planning on staying in the barn. I just had to swing the door open, drop the toolbox inside, and drive back to the house to enjoy the rest of the day and begin planning my future life. Easy!

I drop the toolbox on the ground. I unlatch the door and swing it open just enough for the dogs to run in excitedly and sniff around. With my one hand on the door, I pick up the toolbox with my other hand, step into the barn, and lean down to place the toolbox on the ground.

As I lean over, I lose my balance every so slightly, and the hand I’m holding the door open with comes off the door. As I turn around to catch the door before it swings shut, I hear this big WHHOOSH, a huge gust of wind sweeps by, I hear a big BANG, the barn door slams shut.

And then I hear a quieter, but more ominous sound – the gate latch on the outside of the door locks shut.

I am now trapped in a dark, empty barn 3 acres away from my nearest neighbor in the wee hours of the morning on New Years Day. No electricity, no water – and no cell phone because I wasn’t planning on staying down at the barn so it didn’t occur to me to bring it along.

And as the darkness closes around me, my life passes before my eyes because clearly, I’m probably going to perish out in this barn before anyone comes to rescue me. So for all intents and purposes, there is now No Way Out.

But, hang on a minute—aren’t I a process engineer by profession? Don’t I have a proven track record of being able to assess any situation and come up with a blueprint for getting from mess to success? Surely I can apply what I’ve learned from those experiences to getting out of this barn!

And exactly what have I learned that I can apply to this situation? In process engineering, we use a three-part methodology called, “As Is, To Be, Implement.” So how could I use this approach here?

Well, I just have to take stock of my “as is” surroundings, figure out what my options might be for getting to my “To Be” end-state (which, in this case is out of this barn), then implement the option that we achieve that end state (freedom!)

So, as my eyes begin to adjust to the darkness, I take a look around, and I realize I have not just one option but several options.

Option #1: I can do nothing. It may seem paradoxical but doing nothing is always an option. Those of you who are hikers—what do they tell you to do when you get lost in the woods? “Do nothing. Stay where you are.” However, sometimes there are consequences even for doing nothing and, in this case, the consequences could be dire indeed if no one finds me. Plus, my dogs are starting to whimper and whine, so clearly they don’t think much of this option either.

Option #2: I can scream for help. Of course, my barn is 3 acres away from my nearest neighbor. Plus, it’s New Years Day, and it’s unlikely that any of my neighbors are even awake yet, let alone hiking out near my barn. It’s an option but probably not my best option.

Option #3. I could run at the barn door with all my might and hope to break the lock. Ashleigh Brilliant once said, “In order to get from what was to what will be, you must go through it.” Sound advice, no doubt. However, it might take a few tries before I actually succeed in breaking out through the door, during which time I would probably also break one of my shoulders and one or both legs, in which case, I won’t be able to crawl back to the car, let alone drive myself to the hospital. So, here’s another option that probably isn’t my best option.

Option #4. I could try to escape through the roof. Because the roof isn’t nailed down securely, I can see patches of daylight in some spots. And since I’m using the barn as a storage shed for lots of boxes and suitcases, I could pile everything up like a ladder, climb up, and try to push the roof away from the wall enough for me to shimmy out and drop to the ground. But remember—it’s at least 8 feet straight down, and that’s even assuming I can get up there and swing my legs over in the first place. Which ultimately means we’re looking at that whole “break my shoulders and my legs” outcome again, so this doesn’t seem to be my best option either.

Things are beginning to look bleak indeed if these are my only options. So not wanting to perish in a barn, I continue to take stock, and, looking around once more, I notice the boarded-up window.

Aha – another option!

I know that there’s no glass I have to break through because, as you recall, I never put the windows in. I just need to remove the plywood board that’s nailed over the opening on the inside of the barn. But how am I going to do that? I don’t have any tools.

Hang on a minute. I DO have tools – a bunch of tools. Which is why I have managed to stupidly lock myself in the barn in the first place!

So, I open up the tool box and take out the hammer. I pry out the nails, and the plywood board swings open just like a door! I climb up onto the window ledge, swing my legs out, and proceed to drop gracefully to the ground, which is about 7 feet below, managing to only scrape my arm and pull most of the muscles in my upper body in my fall from grace. I brush myself off, look around sheepishly to make sure that no one has seen me, because in the immortal words of Louisa May Alcott, “Let us be elegant or die,” go back around to the barn door, and open it to let my dogs out.

And as I drive back up to my house on this New Years Day of new beginnings, I realize that everything I will EVER need to know about finding my way out of any situation I’ve just learned by stupidly locking myself in the barn!

And at the heart of my wake-up call is a simple three-step process that anyone can use to Break Free From the No Way Out Syndrome: to move from where they are to where they want to be and transform any mess into success.

And just what are those steps?

1. Examine.

2. Envision.

3. Emerge.

So let’s look at how I discovered these steps and how I applied them to getting out of the barn. And as I tell you how I applied these steps, I ask you to begin thinking about how you might also use them in your own life right now.

Step #1: Examine. In order to get from where you are to where you want to be, you begin by taking stock of your present circumstances WITHOUT JUDGMENT.

One of my favorite authors, Anne Lamott, wrote this: “If you start to look around, you will start to see.”

If you’re going to break free from where you are in order to transform your life, the first thing you need to do is start to really see. See what might be keeping you locked in the barn, down in that steep hole, or trapped in the corn maze. Look around. Take stock. Look for your options. Look for the tools that might be available to you.

Now the most important thing about this step is taking stock NONJUDGMENTALLY. And why is this so important? Because if you’re too busy beating yourself up for getting locked in the barn or trapped in the maze in the first place, you can’t see clearly.

The moment I realized that I had locked myself in the barn, I thought to myself, “Are you stupid? You just locked yourself in the barn! There’s no way out. No one knows you’re down here!”

But then I realized that beating myself up was NOT going to get me out.

So I waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, and then I took stock: I examined what was IN the barn that I might be able to use to get OUT of the barn: the door, the roof, the boxes and suitcases I could pile up, the boarded-up window, the tools in the toolbox.

Which brings us to Step 2 in our 3-step blueprint for Breaking Free From the No Way Out Syndrome.

Step #2: Envision. You visualize all of your options – and what the outcome might be for each option.

Once I examined my surroundings and my situation, what did I do next? I started to see that I did in fact have options, and I pictured the possible outcomes for each one.

And why do we picture the outcomes? Because you need to figure out which option is in your best and highest interest, which in my case, meant the one that would cause me the fewest broken bones!

Remember how I saw five options, each with a different outcome?

Option 1: I could do nothing – and wind up dead, or at the very least, deaf as a result of my dogs screeching in my ears.

Option 2: I could scream – and wind up hoarse (no pun intended) and probably still trapped in the barn.

Option 3: I could try to break down the door – and probably break one or more bones.

Option 4: I could try to break out through the roof – and probably break both of my legs in the fall.

Option 5: I could pry the board off the window and climb out – and maybe hurt myself in the fall.

All of these options were possible. Not all of them were in my best interest. But all of them were possible.

Which reminds of something that Coco Chanel once said, “Don’t spend time beating on a wall, hoping to transform it into a door.” Sounds like she might have locked herself in a barn once or twice herself, and she’s letting us know that, while we might have many options, not all of them are in our best interest.

Which brings us to the last step in our three-step blueprint for Breaking Free From the No Way Out Syndrome.

Step #3: Emerge. You take action towards whatever you decide is in your best and highest interest.

Herbert Hoover said, “Wisdom often consists of knowing what to do next.”

In order to Emerge from any hole you’ve fallen into, you have to figure out what to do using your own inner guidance system that knows what’s best for you.

So how did I apply this step to getting out of that blasted barn?

After I considered all of my options, I decided that my best course of action was to escape through the window. And what did I do to literally Emerge from that barn? I took action!

·         I found the tools I needed to pry off the board.

·         I hoisted myself up onto the window ledge.

·         I dropped gracefully down to the ground on the other side.

Free at last!

Dr. Michael Smith said this: “You are the one who finds your way out and you will.”

Looking at your life today, do you feel as if you’re locked in a barn with no way out? Are you at a place in your life where you know where you want to be but you can’t figure out how to get there from here? Maybe you’re overwhelmed by options, but you need help to determine which option is in your best interest?

Well take heart—and take action!

If I can get myself out of a locked barn without breaking a single bone, you can Break Free of anything that is currently holding you back and keeping you from getting from where you are to where you want to be. And you don’t even need to lock yourself in the barn to know what that is.

You just need to follow these three simple steps to leave behind all of the thoughts, beliefs, assumptions, emotions, and expectations that no longer serve you.

Examine your situation without judgment. Envision your options. And then select your best option to take action and Emerge into the Light!

The author Barbara Sher said, “You need never be hopelessly stuck again, you can get moving now.” So if you find that you need a little help getting back in touch with your inner guidance system, so you can get moving now, I’m here for you! You can check out any of my books, take one of my workshops, or just chat with me about where you are so that, together, we can get you to where you want to be!

The "Awful Leisure" of Loss

There is a very good first-person article today in the “Perspective” section of the Denver Post. Headlined, “What it means to have been born on Sept. 11, 2001,” it is the perspective of a young woman who was born on this day 15 year ago, and how people react when she tells them that, yes, she was born on 9/11.

I have another perspective of this day, one that I would title, ““What it means to have your beloved sister pass away on Sept. 11, 2015.”

One year ago today, I was in the middle of interviewing for a new job, one that would allow me to work remotely full time. This was a goal for me, ever since my sister, who had been in declining health for several years, finally was going to need to move in with me so I could look after her. And, because she couldn’t live with me in Colorado (the altitude), we had decided to move to California, where she could enjoy the benefits of living at sea level (and I could finally realize another goal I had of moving back to the Central Coast).

The interviews (there were three in total) had been going very well, and I was confident that I was going to be offered a position. I was looking forward to telling Colleen the news that very morning one year ago today. I was also hoping that she’d be awake and alert enough to take my call; she had gone into the hospital unexpectedly just four days previously and was having a rough go of it.

Unfortunately, she passed away before I could tell her the good news.

Jonathan H. Ellerby, in his book, “Return to the Sacred,” said this: “After the body is removed, the room is cleaned, and the funeral ends, life will eventually snap back into place. No one at the grocery store will know what’s in your heart, and no one at work will see your sadness. No one will ask you to give voice to the words you haven’t found yet.”

When a loved one passes, time begins to pass differently as well. For the person left behind and left to grieve, it’s as if we’ve entered another dimension, where time is measured not in days, hours, or minutes, but in another, more surreal, less measured way. Those who shared our sadness or grief, those who offered condolences, went back to their unchanged lives. But the person left behind will never have the same life to go back to.

Not long after a friend of mine passed away in 2001, an article titled, “Maybe We Do Not Speak Of It,” serendipitously appeared in the Rocky Mountain News. I cut it out of the paper and framed it next to a photo of my friend because it captured, far better than I could, that surreal feeling of time.

And, so many years later, on the anniversary of my sister’s passing, it still says in a few words what I feel today. I offer it to all of you, in memory of my sister, Colleen Lorraine Graham.

“Maybe we do not speak of it because death will mark all of us, sooner or later. Or maybe it is unspoken because grief is only the first part of it. After a time it becomes something less sharp but larger, too, a more enduring thing called loss.

Perhaps that is why this is the least explored passage: because it has no end. The world loves closure, loves a thing that can, as they say, be gotten through. This is why it comes as a great surprise to find that loss is forever, that two decades after the event, there are those occasions when something in you cries out at the continual presence of an absence.

“An awful leisure,” Emily Dickinson once called what the living have after death.

The landscapes of all our lives become as full of craters as the surface of the moon. And I write my obituaries carefully and think about how little the facts suffice, not only to describe the dead but to tell what they mean to the living all the rest of our lives. We are defined by who we have lost.”

The Two Most Offensive Words in the English (Or Any Other) Language

Question: What are the two most offensive words in the English (or any other) language?

I’ll give you two hints:

1. Neither word is on George Carlin’s famous, “Seven Words You Can Never Say On Television.”
2. Unlike George Carlin’s Seven Words, both words are never censored, either on television or anywhere else (and, taken together, they should be).

Answer: Age Appropriate

Age appropriateness is generally defined as “suitable for people of a particular age.”

I once subscribed to a magazine that marketed itself as the magazine “for women of style and substance.” Since I like to believe that I have ample amounts of both style and substance, I loved that magazine. I tore out stories to keep for later reference, and quoted it often in my blogs.

Until I read an article about age appropriateness in all things, which caused me to promptly cancel my subscription.

Of course, there were the usual tips about clothing—and to my female readers, you know exactly what I’m talking about. The length of our skirts and dresses should become increasingly longer as we grow longer in the tooth, while the plunge of our crepe necklines should creep up in direct proportion to the amount of the crepe skin on our necks as it creeps down.

Now, I have to admit that there is some truth in some of this. I once went to a baseball game with a friend. As we were walking up to the ticket counter, we happened to get in line behind a woman who was encased in very tight lycra pants and a tank top. And, let us say that the woman was weight challenged. My friend looked at the woman, then looked at me, and said, “If you ever see me leaving the house dressed like that, please shoot me.”

Perhaps a bit extreme, but you all have my permission to do the same to me.

And, I firmly believe no woman over the age of 25 should ever be allowed to leave the house wearing Dockers pants.

So I wasn’t offended by the article on the articles of clothing that we should or should not wear.

No, it wasn’t until I got to the section on “Age Appropriate Hair” when I started feeling the heat creep up my admittedly crepey neck.

In discussing appropriate hair styles, the question of length cropped up again.

The recommendation: The older you get, the shorter, more cropped your hair should be.

The reasoning: Because long hair—from the back—suggests youth, which apparently serves as a kind of attitudinal bait and switch to people standing in line behind us waiting to get into, say, a baseball game.

The actual words that the article used were along these lines: Our long hair from the back can be unsettling to men when they see how long in the tooth we actually are from the front, which results in a sharp drop in their desire.

Okay, maybe I’m paraphrasing. But, hand to god, the article actually used the word UNSETTLING, as in “it can be unsettling to men when you turn around and they realize “just how old you really are.”

Now, being a woman of style and substance, and one who happens to have very long hair, I’d also like to believe that I am many things, from the back and the front, none of which I would describe as unsettling, to men or to anyone, for that matter. Arlene Dahl said it best when she acerbically snorted back to James Mason in the 1955 movie, Journey to the Center of the Earth, “I may have been a disturbance to men, never a burden.”

Keep in mind that the concept of age appropriateness isn’t restricted to just us old, crepey-necked, unsettling women. Implicit ageism is the term used to refer to the implicit or subconscious thoughts, feelings, and behaviors one has about older or younger people. These may be a mixture of positive and negative thoughts and feelings, but gerontologist Becca Levy reports that they “tend to be mostly negative.”

Ya think?

Age-based prejudice and stereotyping usually involves older or younger people being pitied, marginalized, or patronized. This is described as “benevolent prejudice” because the tendency to pity is linked to seeing older or younger people as “friendly, but incompetent,” or, in my case, unsettling.

Katrina Kaif said, “I feel it is important not to get overly obsessed and overly carried away with just the physical aspect. There is more to beauty than just the physical appearance. You are also a complete person, and a woman should have an identity beyond just the way she looks.”

Amen, sister.

And so if you happen to be in line behind me someday, please know that I will go on being unsettling—as well as disturbing, unexpected, crepey, long in the tooth and sometimes short in the skirt (but never in lycra or Dockers!).

And, as always, remember this: It’s NEVER too late to be what you might have been!

Want to know more about transforming limited thoughts and beliefs into limitless possibilities? Check out my Examine–Envision–Emerge Personal Transformation Book Series. Each book explores a particular aspect of thought healing. Find yours online at your favorite retailer today!

Deja Vu All Over Again

#ThoughtHealing Quote for the Week: We can change the quality of our lives by changing the context in which we view our circumstances. Ernie Zelinkski

I can’t prove it, but I think there's a pool they started up at work when I returned last month after my 14-month "sabbatical": Pick the day when McDowell will stop looking refreshed and start looking like she did when she left here at the end of 2014.

I’m not sure what kind of odds I’m getting, but in the immortal words of Bruce Willis, “Put me down for twenty, I'm good for it.”

In my first week, several people commented on how refreshed I looked. Now, admittedly, it helped that I had just gotten back from Hawaii, so I definitely looked suntanned and rested. But it made me wonder: just how bad DID I look when I left?

Anyone who read my last book, “I’ve Been Down Here Before, But This Time I Know The Way Out,” knows that, in 2014, I left the very job I now hold because things had become completely out of control for me. Not because I disliked the work—on the contrary, the various things I got to work on were very suited to my interests and my skills. Instead, I left because my behavior had made me ashamed of myself, and I couldn’t figure out a way to dig myself out short of running when I got the chance.

And that chance came when I had the opportunity to accept a layoff and 26 weeks of unemployment.

Several people have asked, with no small amount of incredulity in their voices, why in heavens name I actually came back. And not a few of them have assumed that I must have been forced back somehow—maybe because I’ve run out of money, or I couldn’t get a job anywhere else.

I’ve started the rumor that I was offered $14 million to return. It seemed like a nice round figure.

It would be incredibly naive, and just plain stupid, to think that the workplace has changed in the 14 months that I’ve been gone. Of course it hasn’t changed. And since it hasn’t changed, most people believe that it’s just a matter of time before I start looking like I did before.

Except that I know I won’t. And how, you may ask, can I possibly be so sure about this?

Because, while the workplace hasn’t changed, my circumstances have. And so have I.

John Ramos said, “For things to change, you must change. For things to get better, you must get better.”

A lot can happen in 14 months (for that matter, a lot can happen in 14 minutes). And I had a choice: I could either continue to view my circumstances in the same way or I could change the context.

And, not only could I change how I viewed my circumstances, I could change my view of MYSELF within those circumstances.

I’ve changed. I’ve gotten better. And now everything around me has changed and gotten better as well.

So as you view your own circumstances, is there anything that you can change so that you, too, can get better?

Think about it!

And, as always, remember this: It’s NEVER too late to be what you might have been!

Want to know more about transforming limited thoughts and beliefs into limitless possibilities? Check out my Examine–Envision–Emerge Personal Transformation Book Series. Each book explores a particular aspect of thought healing. Find yours online at your favorite retailer today!

Get Back To Where You Once Belonged

#ThoughtHealing Quote for This Week: “You must learn to respect the wisdom of your natural instincts, because they are probably superb when it comes to weaving everything you need into your life.” Barbara Sher

Last month, I wrote about how I found, and then, surprisingly, left the perfect job.

Now I want to share how this came about. I still believe that the Universe did, in fact, manifest the perfect job for me. I simply needed to come to understand why it was perfect for me—and why I needed to leave it.

In my book, Will Work to Feed Dogs: Seven Steps to Identifying Meaningful Life-Work Now!, I wrote this: a critical element in finding meaningful life work is determining which components of your Authentic Self are most important to you. This is because the components of your Authentic Self that are most important to you will help you make appropriate decisions and choices so that you don’t compromise when it comes to identifying your ideal life-work.

To help people determine what those components are, I included an exercise called, “My Authentic Self,” which consists of exploring five aspects: values, passions/interests, natural talents, favorite skills, and personality preferences. (Self-promoting plug: you can find the worksheet that goes with this exercise on my personal transformation site www.cracksinconsciousness.com ).

Of course, in the spirit of “walk the talk,” I dutifully filled out the worksheet—but, as it turns out, not so much with a focus on what it really meant to me so much as a usability test drive to ensure that the worksheet made sense from a coaching perspective.

Bad idea. Okay, maybe that’s a little harsh. Maybe “too focused on only one thing” would be a better, less critical way to characterize it.

It’s not that I couldn’t identify all of the aspects of my Authentic Self; I live a very self-examined life, and, over the years, I’ve become quite an expert in what makes me tick and what’s most important to me.

However, when it came down to it, I was ashamed of what was most important to me. Why? Because of very old tapes running all the way back to my childhood.

And what was most important to me? Financial and personal security. Human, face-to-face interaction (I can talk to my dogs only so much). None of which were considered okay for me to need or want while I was growing up. And, none of which could ever be satisfied by my 100% remote, work for 18 months without benefits and then you’re on your own for 6 months Project Manager job.

Now, I won’t waste your time (or mine) chronicling the woes, real or perceived, of my childhood. Because the real lesson here is that, regardless of how I was raised, how I got here, where I go from here, the essential piece of the puzzle of how to live a happy life is owning what is true and necessary for me. Owning it without shame or apology or justification. Owning it, and then acting on it.

And so I ran from my perfect job—back to where I was at the end of 2014. I’m working at the same place (literally, in the same building), with the same people, for a great new company, for a great salary and benefits, a flexible work schedule (meaning onsite and telework), and where several of my closest friends also work. Perfect!

Barbara Sher also said: “You don’t have to give up a life of security to lead the life of adventure.”

Which I am finding to be very true for me. With my need for financial and personal security met, I can freely continue to pursue everything else that gives me personal satisfaction: writing, teaching, public speaking.

And so, let me leave you with this thought: looking at your own Authentic Self, is there any aspect of it that you are not honoring? And if there is, what is it costing you?

Think about it!

And, as always, remember this: It’s NEVER too late to be what you might have been!

Want to know more about transforming limited thoughts and beliefs into limitless possibilities? Check out my Examine–Envision–Emerge Personal Transformation Book Series. Each book explores a particular aspect of thought healing. Find yours online at your favorite retailer today!