Grateful for the Gunk

Thanksgiving Day 2011 is two days away, and gratitude is on the minds and in the hearts of many. Yes, it's easy to be grateful for our loved ones, home, job, and yummy, fattening food. (Can I get a witness on stuffing?!) But, this time also offers us an opportunity to show gratitude for the crappy things in our lives, for they are often our greatest teachers. On this Thanksgiving holiday, I am grateful for the following yuckies:

* My super-fugly, pumpkin-colored stretch pants from Chadwick's of Boston, which remind me that one should never compare oneself to another (or buy pants from a discount catalog)

* Mom's passing, which reminds me to fully appreciate each day that I have been given

* Snowstorms in Minnesota, which remind me how friggin' incredible the summers can be

* Sprouting pimples at 42 years of age, which remind me when I have had more Starbucks than a human should possibly consume

* Struggling with paying bills, which reminds me how fortunate I am to even have bills; there are people on this planet who don't have food to eat much less an overdue Wells Fargo credit card statement

* My alcoholic ex-f@#$buddy that treated me like shit, who reminds me that I deserved a whole lot better (and got it)

* So-called personality conflicts with insecure ninnies, which reminds me that I don't have to take on other people's drama

* Computer crashes and broken routers, which remind me that life isn't about typing on a keyboard or staring at a screen

* Not being able to do the 'crane' pose in yoga (yet), which reminds me that I have come a long way from not being able to do any pose but Savasana

* My daughter's perpetually-dirty room, which reminds me of her creativity and individuality (and ingenious ways to hide candy wrappers)

* My smallness, which reminds me of what I still need to work on

Happy Thanksgiving, and celebrate your gunk, everybody!! It's what helped create the Beauty That Is You.

Downsizing My Hoop

Today was a momentous occasion: I hooped with my ten year-old daughter's hula hoop.

For those of you who aren't hoopers, you may say, "Big Whoop!". But, trust me. It IS a big friggin' whoop. I started out hula hooping over two years ago with a ginormous, heavy-as-hell hoop that was almost as tall as I was. When I first began, I couldn't keep that thing rotating around my larger-than-average girth to save my life. However, after swaying, shimmying, swearing, circling, and slamming for two long years, I am now able to hoop for an hour with a teeny, tiny, light-as-a-feather dance hoop that is suitable for a petite elementary schooler.

I LOVE LOVE LOVE it!!! The lighter hoop makes it easier to do crazy tricks like over-the-head tosses, around-the-body spins, and fun finger-hooping. (Yes, finger hooping.) I can't wait to practice it again tomorrow, as I know it will only get easier (as everything does when we just keep at it.)

I am eternally grateful to my darling daughter for lending me her sparkly dance hoop, and if she wants to get it back, she'll have to pry it from my cold, dead hoopy hands.

Kardashian-Free Living

Below are things I don't give a damn about:

* Kim Kardashian's wedding
* Kim Kardashian's wedding guests
* Kim Kardashian's wedding dress
* Kim Kardashian's tropical honeymoon
* Kim Kardashian's 72-day marriage
* Kim Kardashian's husband
* Kim Kardashian's divorce
* Kim Kardashian's pre-nup
* Kim Kardashian's wedding ring
* Kim Kardashian's reality show
* Kim Kardashian's recording career
* Kim Kardashian's handbag collection
* Kim Kardashian's bubble butt
* Kim Kardashian's sisters
* Kim Kardashian's dancing brother
* Kim Kardashian's mother
* Kim Kardashian's father
* Kim Kardashian's father-in-law
* Kim Kardashian's tweets
* Kim Kardashian's teets
* KIM KARDASHIAN

I hope for this woman's sake that she unplugs from the ridiculous media machine that has created her. Maybe then she'll have a fighting chance at true happiness.

I certainly will be happier when I see less of her.

Visions of Reese's

Today is Halloween, and I have not eaten ANY sugar in six weeks. It hasn't been too terribly difficult, except when I was at the ATL airport yesterday. Terminal C posed particular challenges as I could literally smell the various chocolate balls of heaven from The Grove shop located seven gates away. I don't know if I'll break into my ten year-old's plastic pumpkin when she is looking the other way, but if I do, here are the Top Ten yummies that I will seek out:

10. 3 Musketeers (soft, nougat-y goodness)
9. Snickers (frozen Snickers was my mom's favorite naughty treat - makes me think of her)
8. Skittles (can't get enough of the rainbow, plus it's made with Real Fruit!)
7. Milk Duds (kick it old school while flipping off my dentist)
6. Pixie Stix (colorful straws of sugar!)
5. M&Ms Plain (if only I could have some ice cream to go with them)
4. Twizzlers (diet candy for when the guilt becomes too great)
3. Butterfinger (didn't think I'd love it, but I do. Oh, how I do.)
2. Snyder's pretzels (salty treat is a nice change; cleanses the palate for more sugar to come)
1. Reese's Peanut Butter Cups (Halloween candy the way God meant it to be.)

My mouth is watering at the thought of all of these delectable ditties. Maybe it's enough to just imagine what they would taste like.

Maybe.

What's your favorite Halloween treat? Have I left something off the list that should not be ignored?

Drum Circle Hooping

Hey there!

It's HoopWoman here. I just finished a whirlwind trip to Sarasota for a combo of keynote work and friend play. Last night I went to the Nokomis Beach Drum Circle with my buddy Vanessa and carried Betsy, my badass hoop, along with me. When the powerful rhythms started, my booty started to shake without any conscious decision-making on my part. After just a few minutes, Betsy and I nervously stepped into the circle and started to groove.

While I'm certainly no Spiral or Brecken, I'm still pretty damn proud of not only being able to hoop, but I also have the stones enough to get up in front of a crowd of strangers and hoop like no one is watching. In a bikini top. At 42 years of age. We should everything in our lives like no one is watching. That's where the juice is.

How Do I Start Up Again?

Hi. This is Theresa Rose. Remember me? This is a big shout-out for you 13 beautiful souls who actually subscribed to my blog a thousand years ago. Now, let's get on to business.

I am going through some major changes in my life, and I am acutely aware of my need for journaling as a form of therapy and healing. Resuming a regular writing practice has been dancing around the periphery, but LogicGirl kicks in and says, "No! You're too busy! You gotta make those calls, send those emails, blah blah blah!" Yet, writing finds its way back into my heart. I have been living vicariously through Jason Mraz's blog. The man is a certifiable genius. I caught up on several of his blogs (since I hadn't given myself time to enjoy them - Enjoy life?! What, are you crazy?) and felt pangs of jealousy swoop into my noggin as I watched him take opening the kimono to a whole different place. (Insert tired-ass, type-A need to edit what I've written so far but am plowing through anyway because it's a blog, dammit, and I can be messy if I wanna.)

Folks, this is what happens when a writer doesn't give herself permission to write. She goes insane on the very first paragraph. Well, you can count yourself lucky that you (if you are even reading this and haven't thrown me into Junk by now) are one of a baker's dozen of like-minded individuals enjoying the bits-and-bytes bonding with a raving ninny.

Because that is what this blog is about to turn into.

I want to write about our struggles and the fears, but I also want to write about the victories and moments of Grace. I hope I can look beyond my fear of "what will they say about me?" and "will this negatively impact my chances for new business?" and just plow ahead. Is this the moment where I finally step into the 'integrity' I talk so much about? Can I finally accept that I am a spiritual teacher, and TRUST? Is it OK to talk about Spirit?

I'm sorry if this is rambling. Many of my posts may be. But here is what I'm thinking...if I just go into my heart and type my truth, then everything will work out the way it needs to. I do trust that I can share what I need to, and there will be no judgment - from God, from strangers, from friends and family, from clients and prospects, from me. Well, at least I can control the last one.

I will not judge myself.

I will not judge myself.

I will not judge myself.

I will not judge myself.

Maybe if I continue to write it a la Bart that it will get in there. It's getting better.

That's it for now. I'm glad I returned, and thank you. May your day be filled with tons of love.

Following Directions

When I perform my most popular keynote speech, "Finding Your Mojo: The ABCs of Living in Abundance, Balance and Creativity", one of the first mojo busters I describe is Ignoring the Signs. It's time for me to follow my own advice.

Over the last few years, I have been doing what I thought I needed to do to be a successful author and speaker. I have performed book readings at countless bookstores, conducted a monthly women's discussion group both in Florida and Minnesota, facilitated meditation circles and healing workshops, and took any other opportunity presented to me to get in front of people. Ever since Opening the Kimono was published, I have performed free speaking engagements whenever possible in exchange for the opportunity to sell books and audiobooks afterward. I had been in training and facilitation roles for several years, both in my corporate and alternative healing days, but I had not yet broken into the land of the "paid professional speaker".

Boy, have things changed.

Over the last nine months, I have worked my cajones off to get recognized as a bonafide speaker, worthy of commanding a decent fee for my services. It has been incredibly difficult to break into this industry, especially in the midst of the worst economic downturn in my lifetime. It turns out that being a professional speaker involves a helluva lot more than just being good on stage; you also need to be an expert at sales, marketing, customer service, and business administration. You need to have an appealing, professionally-designed web site, a killer four-minute demo video, the ability to write compelling marketing materials, the courage to pick up the phone to call (and call and call and call and call) strangers to pitch them about your work, and most importantly, possess a thick layer of skin that will help you survive when you get pierced by the word "no" time and time again. The sales cycle is long, the competition is fierce, and the budgets are tight. Simply put, speaking ain't for sissies.

During this challenging time of growth, I had been relying on local events to keep me connected with people, sell a few books, and get my name out into the community. When we first moved to Minneapolis, my small events were going well, but I was not finding success with the larger keynote programs I was trying to secure. Yet, over time, the tides have turned. Over the last few months, I have seen a dramatic drying up of my small events, e.g. no one showing up for my free women's discussion group, three people showing up for my guided meditations, and workshops getting canceled due to lack of participation. At the same time, I have seen an explosion of interest in my major keynote programs - events where I am speaking in front of several hundred participants. Just this week I did a keynote at the Sheraton Bloomington Grand Ballroom for over 400 people. In a few months, I'll be performing "Finding Your Mojo" for 600-800 people, and I am in the final selection round for a Fall event that would be give me the opportunity to present in front of THOUSANDS of women. Prospective clients are sending me emails telling me that they want me for their next big function, glowing testimonials are opening doors to new gigs, and several national speaking bureaus have chosen to represent me.

Here's the irony. Two weeks ago, I had to cancel my monthly local chakra meditation at a neighborhood apartment complex because the door to the party room was inadvertently locked. It wasn't a major catastrophe, as only a few people showed up anyway. I have also decided to permanently cancel my Club Kimono Discussion Groups due to lack of participation. Finally, I am scheduled to do a workshop this Saturday at a local yoga studio that looks like it will cancel too due to poor registration. Talk about reading the signs!

At first, all I could think about was the personal sting of rejection that the "failure" of my local events brought about. It hurts when you get all gussied up to host a meditation or discussion group, pack up your car with books and flyers, drive to the venue, and wait for people to arrive. And wait. And wait a little longer. With each passing moment where no one walks in the door, a little more of my self-esteem was chipped away. Why? Why didn't they like me anymore? What was wrong with me? How come no one was showing up? WTF?????

Then I reminded myself of my Mojo Buster #1: Ignoring the Signs. In my presentation, I talk about how we lose our mojo when we constantly ignore the signs from The Universe (aka Spirit) to do something different. When we ignore them, the physical indicators will get louder and more unpleasant until we recognize the underlying message and act upon it. Eight years ago, I received a crystal-clear sign from Spirit that I was no longer going to be a Corporate Climber. The unmistakable sign was that I got laid off. Twice. Afterward, I could not find a comparable position no matter how hard I tried. In hindsight, I realize that I was patently unsuccessful in finding another job was because I wasn't supposed to. The Universe wanted me to move in a whole new direction -- alternative healing -- and I needed to have it slapped across my face for me to pay attention. Fast forward eight years later, and I am grateful beyond belief that I received those unpleasant signs.

I now find myself in another major transition. My life as a local healer is over, at least for now. Spirit is slamming doors shut left and right while opening others for me to walk through. I believe that Spirit has put an end to my local events so I don't need to let people down when I'd inevitably need to do it down the road. My calendar is already getting full with major keynotes, and my Club Kimonos and Chakra Meditations simply wouldn't be able to fit around them. There is a part of me that is saddened by this loss, but I also know that it is the natural next step for me.

One of the toughest challenges I face as I traverse this exciting new path is the acknowledgment of Bigness. It's a little uncomfortable to accept the fact that I am now being handsomely paid to get up in front of hundreds of people and...talk. There is a part of me that feels like I don't deserve this kind of success. A little annoying voice whispers in my ear, "Who do you think you are, Miss Fancy Pants? Do you really think that you are good enough to do this job?" It feels like trying on a luxurious, beautiful outfit at your favorite store and feeling enormous guilt for even bringing it into the dressing room. Yet, here I stand, wearing the outfit.

When I was freaking out before going on stage at the Sheraton this week, Michael took me in his arms and reminded me that I was BORN to do this. He's absolutely right. I've prepped for this moment ever since I was a child when I stood in front of my mirrored closet holding a microphone/hairbrush in my hand and performed for my enraptured stuffed animals. My current profession is a glorious combination of teacher, preacher, actor, and cheerleader -- all of which I have joyfully performed -- and I am finally accepting that I have gotten what I have been asking for. I am ready to accept my role as Bringer of the Mojo, even if it occasionally tweaks me (and a few others around me).

Thanks, Spirit, for being my Cosmic GPS. I understand that I have finally arrived at my destination: Joy.