The Empress of Ease

Affirmation 11 Ease

You might recall that I declared 2014 the Year of Ease. You might also recall that I err on the side of Over-Achievement and that I have an unfortunate tendency to make things way more complicated than they need to be.

Well. As it turns out, Ease plus Achievement is a remarkably counterproductive concoction. Recipe fail! It’s like mixing caffeine with melatonin and praying for sleep. It’s like pairing white cats with black velvet and hoping that one of those things won’t rub off on the other thing. Wishful thinking, my friend! It ain’t gonna happen!

Try pairing spaghetti sauce for dinner with wearing a white shirt. Recipe for disaster, no?

Or try pairing spaghetti sauce for dinner with wearing a white shirt that day. Recipe for disaster, no?

January was a short-lived but powerful experiment in Ease Gone Wrong. On one hand, I was yearning for the warm waves of Ease to wash over my existence like a soothing, amniotic balm. Passively sinking into Ease. Letting Ease embrace me gently like an angel. On the other hand, I wanted to Excel at Ease and to be the bestest, ease-iest* woman on the face of the planet (and in the history of the Universe). Lifting up the Trophy of Ease! Competing for the Blue Ribbon in Ease! No pressure, though. Ease into Ease, right?

Accepting the Ease Award with a starfish jump!

Accepting the coveted Ease Award with a starfish jump!

Ha. I started off with good intentions. At the beginning of each new week, I would think to myself, “What can I incorporate into my days that would feel dreamy and ease-filled?” Each Monday morning, I would sit and ponder this question with the most earnest of hearts and, after a few minutes of relaxed contemplation, would write down a handful of things that would feel like silky and luxurious pockets in my otherwise frazzled schedule.

  • Drink my morning elixir before breakfast
  • 10 minutes of divine decluttering!
  • Get together with girlfriends over tea
  • Attend a group EFT session
  • Phone my mom and sisters

The first week of January felt Ease-filled, indeed. Granted, I was recovering from a terrible flu at the time, so I didn’t have the strength to be Empress of Ease just yet. “Luckily”, by Week 2, I had enough gusto in me again to ramp up the Ease and to start packing my schedule with a plethora of Ease-y Things To Do. In between inputting expense receipts and calculating sales tax remittances for our art business, I would barrel through items on my Ease List, feeling adrenaline and whatever hormone makes Over-Achievement feel so dang good chorus through my veins.

Yes! I just read a chapter in that Numerology book. CHECK!

Oh ho ho! I can put a big ‘X’ through that “walk outside for 10 minutes” item, NOT TO MENTION I WALKED OUTSIDE FOR 30 MINUTES. I AM AWESOME AND I WIN!!! [insert graceless and over-exuberant End Zone Dance here, made all the more awkward by the fact that I don’t even watch football]

Like this. Only awkwarder.

Like this. Only awkwarder.

Sadly, whenever I would “run out” of things to do from my Ease List, I would add more items.

By the end of January, I was so flush with Ease Accomplishments that… I was exhausted. (Slow. Learner. Strikes. Again.)

At least I was able to recognize my Defeating the Purpose-ness early this time (or at least earlier than usual). So, together with my coach and dear friend, Kathy, I set a new standard for February. This month, Ease will mean carving out tiny chunks of time each day (even if it’s 5 minutes to start) and literally doing nothing. Because as much as I enjoy reading, writing, knitting, tapping, tea-drinking, cooking, brainstorming, walking, hiking, cycling, hanging out with friends, staying connected with my family, and taking the odd photograph– SERIOUSLY, WOMAN: SIT. DAMN. STILL. DO EET. FOR REAL. LIKE, NOW.  (Nothing says “Ease” quite like BOLD-FACED CAPS, right? I thought so.**)

It’s taking awhile, but I’m learning. At least there are still close to 11 months left in this Year of Ease, right? Maybe by November or December, I’ll have “achieved” Ease… in the non-achievement sense of the term, of course. 😉 In the meantime, I’d love to know:

Are you a slow learner, too?

What life lessons do you need to ‘learn’ over and over again?

How do you incorporate Ease into your lives?

*Ease-iest: Not to be confused with Easiest. If you know me at all– and I assume you do if you’ve been reading this blog for any length of time– you should be certain by now that I’m as far from loose as one can get. This here lady is wound tighter than a top!

** Tangential anecdote: I took piano lessons for about 3 or 4 years when I was in grade school. My shoulders were always tensed right up to my ears during my lessons, and my piano teacher would ream on them during warm-up. “RELAX. YOUR. SHOULDERS!” she would bark, while heaving her entire body weight onto my shoulders and yanking them down, presumably to detach them from my neck altogether. Surprisingly, I never became a concert pianist, nor did my shoulders ever learn to loosen up. What gives?

Sunday Signage: Beware of Giants!

Ah, riding the ferry! Nothing but sparkles of sunshine on the water and long, sweet line-ups to the indoor cafeteria for $12 paninis. Sounds like paradise, right? WRONG!

I hate to be the one to burst your bubble of bliss, but don’t you know that GIANTS are lurking in the shadowy caverns of the ferry hull, waiting until everyone returns to their vehicles to pounce? (Not that Giants ‘pounce’– they are too large and lumbering for that– but you get the idea. They are waiting to kill you while you are innocently waiting for the ferry to dock!)

Need proof? An actual, official warning sign from the vehicle deck on board BC Ferries:

IMG_1629One minute, the cars are safe and sound, parked within 12 inches of each other. The next minute, though? WHAMMO! Out pops a Giant, towering over the vehicles and waving a leg of wildebeest in rage! His torso is like a glowing furnace of fury! He’s even wearing red Oven Mitts of Doom!! Noooooooo!!! (Car #1 is lucky to escape, no? Even if that “escape” is straight into a watery grave from the not-yet-docked ferry.) I feel sorry for the people in Car #2, though. They are total goners… or at the very least, their windshield will get all greasy from the meat dribbles. Fact.

Sunday Signage: The Baby’s Gonna Blow!

I love Seattle. I love its zany architecture, crazy ass hill climbs, scenic views, and even its weather. It’s been so awesome having several weeks to explore this city (penthouse living, baby– yeah!), mainly so we can discover random gems like this one:

Quick! RUN FOR COVER!! Baby's gonna blow!

Quick! RUN FOR COVER!! Baby’s gonna blow!

This is not just any restroom sign. It’s a full-scale, life-sized, labor-intensive tiled mosaic that not-so-discretely lets visitors know where they can do their business at the famed Pike Place Market. I haven’t pictured the ‘mom’ part of the mosaic in this particular photo, but I can assure you she’s pretty casual looking. The Girl Child, on the other hand, seems to have more of an, um, urgent spring in her step, and the Dad? Well. I think that Dad has a Diaper Emergency on his hands… literally, from the looks of it.

I’m just picturing the commissioning process for this mural:

Pike Place Market: We need you to lay some tile downstairs. Huge mural. It’s going to be brilliant. The baby needs to be at arm’s length from the dad. I’m talking Dad Arms at 90-degrees. Everyone except mom needs to be breaking into a run.

Artist: Um, okay?

Pike Place Market: Make sure the Girl Child is almost as tall as an adult female. Dad needs to be a freaking giant. Baby will do a superhero pose– it’s going to be awesome.

Artist: And you’ll pay me?

Pike Place Market: Of course! We value all artists here in Seattle!

Artist: In that case, show me that cash money and hand me the grout.

Love you, Seattle!

Acting “As If” For the Win!

Several months ago, I was inspired by fellow blogger Robin to sign up for daily Notes From The Universe e-mails. These little nuggets of inspiration are sent out weekday mornings and contain pithy words of wisdom and lots of cheerleading from The Universe. “Rah, rah Dana– you’re amazing!” and “Reach for your fabulous dreams, Dana– you can do it!” sort of stuff. Things like that are right up my alley.

When you sign up to receive the Notes in your own inbox, you are asked to create a profile– basic things like your name and e-mail address, but also two of your most sacred hopes and dreams for yourself. These dreams have a character limit and need to be written out in a specific fashion so they can be inserted– proper grammar sort of intact– into special Notes every couple of weeks or so. Here’s the thing: Even though I’m fully aware that I personally created this profile for myself, I’m always secretly shocked when there are references to my biggest dreams within the daily Note. Sometimes I even feel tears springing to the corners of my eyes reading them, like, “OMG! How did the Universe know?! (It’s embarrassing. Yeah.)

Anyway. On December 20th, this was the Note I received from The Universe:

Hey Dana, great news!!!

Your new book sold out, again, “A Gorgeous Bright Serene Spacious Waterfront Home For Everyone!” Readers loved the chapter on “Acting As If.”

By the way, your publicist called and asked if she could bring her boyfriend to San Tropez?

And you said, “Darling, she can bring anyone she wants.”

Success has so not changed you,
The Universe

Predictably, when reading this Note, I was all, “OMG! How did the Universe know that one of my secret dreams refers to a gorgeous bright serene spacious waterfront home? And as a tangent: how perfect is it that the Universe also has a penchant for using too many exclamation points? It’s a match made in heaven!!!” (Full disclosure: my true secret dream actually contains commas and personal pronouns when it’s typed out, all official-style, but my, oh my— I do love me some serenity on the waterfront!)

In case you didn't figure it out, this is me being serene on the waterfront. They don't call me "Dr. Obvious" for nothing.

In case you didn’t figure it out, this is me being serene on the waterfront. They don’t call me “Dr. Obvious” for nothing.

I’ll confess that I let out a goofy laugh when I first read this Note. Telltale tears also pricked the corners of my eyes (those emotional bastards!). I noticed Marty glancing at me with question marks in his eyes, so I tried to act all nonchalant and whatevs by… letting out an even more exaggerated guffaw. No words. Just guffaws. The sheer force of this way-too-loud laugh then squeezed out more tears from my eyes, so I was hee-hawing and half-crying at the same time. Classy moment alert!

Why was I even more awkward than usual when reading this particular note, you might wonder? Well, first off: I was thunderstruck by the “Acting As If” reference in this note. We all learned in “Manifestation 101” class that one of the best ways to bring about something is to “act as if” it’s already there. And guess what, dear readers? On December 20th, I happened to read my special Note from the Universe whilst checking my e-mail at a badass computer desk in a gorgeous, bright, serene and spacious waterfront home. (FOR REALZ!!!)

Here's where it happened! At a desk made out of airplane wings... or something made to look like airplane wings.

Here’s where it happened! At a wicked cool desk made out of airplane wings… or something. But the home! Check out the brightness and spaciousness of the home in the background, though!

Yes! I am so on top of this “Acting As If” chapter! Marty and I are babysitting a dream home in Seattle for the holidays, so for two full weeks, I will be fully immersed in manifesting my own gorgeous home via “acting as if”. (You hear that, Universe? I am ON THIS! A++++)

Yep. I live here now. (For two weeks, but whatever... Minor technicalities.)

Yep. I live here now. (For two weeks, but whatever… Minor technicalities.) Is it bright and serene enough for YOU?

Rational Me has the unfortunate tendency to be rendered breathless/motionless by questions of affordability, practicality, and “trying to figure it all out”-ity when thinking about gorgeous and spacious waterfront homes. However, House-Sitting Me thinks nothing about pushing the “PH” (PENTHOUSE!!!) button in the elevator– after all, that’s where I live right now. It’s simply a matter of fact. (Delicious, marvelous FACT!)

And Seattle... hello!! Who doesn't appreciate solar-powered singing flower statues and the Space Needle?

And Seattle… hello!! Who doesn’t appreciate solar-powered singing flower statues and the Space Needle? (If you don’t, maybe we shouldn’t be friends anymore.)

Logical Me doesn’t dare to dream too big when it comes to serene homes with an expansive view of the Pacific Ocean, lest I crush my own heart with disappointment and unfulfilled expectations. However, House-Sitting Me has lots of fun pretending that this super awesome PENTHOUSE SUITE is mine for keeps! (We’ve already designated Marty an inspiring studio room here and I’ve even called dibs on my office space… not that either of us are working on holidays, mind you.) House-Sitting Me is really great at playing make believe and isn’t personally invested in things working out one way or another. Let’s enjoy this place to the max while we’re here!

Ahhhh... gorgeous and spacious!

Ahhhh… gorgeous and spacious!

Serious Me would never dare to “make a place my own” while looking after it for somebody else. (In fact, Serious Me’s head would barely graze the pillow each night while sleeping– we wouldn’t want to actually sleep in the bed that’s made for sleeping!! That would be preposterous!) However, House-Sitting Me– that savvy she-wizard!– made a joyful ritual out of banishing any “non-me” items to the unused bathroom on Day One. Out of sight, out of mind! Those items will sit in quarantine for two weeks, all by their lonesome, but will magically and perfectly appear in their exact right places on the evening that our house-sitting duties expire. (Until then, this house is 100% mine!)

Let's be honest here: how many "air fresheners" does one house need? Well, if it's *my* gorgeous, bright, serene and spacious waterfront home, the answer is none. Scented candles, Febreze bottles, and sticks and sticks of toxic "scent", I sentence you to two weeks in the farthest corner, behind a closed door.

Let’s be honest here: how many “air fresheners” does one house need? Well, if it’s *my* gorgeous, bright, serene and spacious waterfront home, the answer is NONE. Scented candles, detergents, soaps, lotions, Febreze bottles, and sticks and sticks of toxic “fresh scent”, I sentence you to two weeks behind a closed door in the farthest corner of this beautiful home. Good riddance!

Stodgy Me wouldn’t dream of “going overboard” with this penthouse suite experience. Sure, it’s nice and exciting and all, but mum’s always the word when it comes to Stodgy Me. No need to bring it up in random conversations, right? However, House-Sitting Me… well, how do I put this delicately? House-Sitting Me is SUPER HARDCORE about enjoying this penthouse suite. (“Guess what, strangers I’ve never met before? I LIVE IN A PENTHOUSE SUITE! Hell, yeah!!”) Moreover, House-Sitting Me gets the EFFIN’ GOLD STAR for savoring **Every. Single. Moment.** spent in this gorgeous, bright, serene, spacious waterfront home. House-Sitting Me doesn’t care if it seems ludicrous. Or outlandish. Or excessive. Or shallow and materialistic. House-Sitting Me loves everything about this penthouse suite and might just shout that from the top of this gigantic ferris wheel:

I'm on it, Universe! A+++

PENTHOUSE LOVIN’ FOR THE WIN!! I’m on it, Universe! A+++

And you, dear readers? How are you planning to spend the holidays?

Anybody want to swap Penthouse stories with me? (Not those kind of Penthouse stories– the G-rated ones, obviously!)