I have really high expectations for myself. Bordering on impossible.

It’s sort of an unavoidable byproduct of believing I can do anything. 

That’s my platform. I believe it for myself and I believe it for you. (We are all magic. That is a fact.)

I believe it because I’ve done things I never could have imagined. I’ve seen myself do supernatural shit beyond my wildest dreams. (Literally sitting in my own brain, watching my body do something and thinking, how am I doing this?)

Any prior concept I had of what my life could look like has been completely blown apart. And I expect it to be blown apart again and again. Because that’s been the pattern. (And patterns are science.)

I am unlimited. 

BUT, I am also limited.  

I am unlimited and limited. (I DON’T GET IT. Me either.)

I have superpowers that transcend time and space. 

AND, I am a human being.

It makes no sense. It’s infuriating. It’s weird. And it’s…humbling.

I think we all feel the struggle of toggling between different levels of functioning.

Some weeks, this very blog pours out of me like Niagara Falls. Other weeks, I’m wringing out a dry towel.

I can use insane wizardry locked in my body from a past life to locate and clear a past life wound in someone else’s body…but I can’t cook rice?

Sometimes I’m on fire, and other times, life is burning me to a crisp.

How can I be so good at some things, and so embarrassingly bad at others? Why do I regress to an angsty teen sometimes? Why can’t I just be at my best all the time?

Because our capacity for greatness doesn’t rescue us from our human-ness. And being a human means progressing, then falling back. It means certain people and situations bring out parts of us we don’t like. It means…sometimes, there is no answer. 

We can’t transcend being human. We can have transcendent experiences, but at the end of the day, we all still poop out of our butts, ya know? 

If I expect myself to be 24/7 god-level, I’m going to be disappointed in myself for just existing. And I’m going to miss the jewels hidden in the weird, gross, normal stuff. 

Having a body means we get to do amazing things. Having a body also means we have to do mundane things to take care of it and get through life.

If we don’t accept our humanness and our limitations, we overburden ourselves with perfectionism, frustration and disappointment.

But if we don’t believe more is possible, we miss our unimaginable potential. We don’t express our divinity. We feel isolated, lonely and depressed because we don’t realize we are all a part of this crazy, contradictory magic.

It’s December 27th. Which means a lot of conversations about the NEW year. What do I want? Who do I want to be? What are my goals?

I like self-reflecting and setting intentions. It’s clarifying, organizing and empowering.

AND, it can be a lot of pressure. To wrap up the past, leave old ways behind and write the future.

A fresh start is REALLY appealing. Like peace and satisfaction are on the other side of a comprehensive list, or a perfectly worded intention. And hey, sometimes, they is.

Personally, I visualize myself meditating on a mountainside like a little Buddha. Nothing bothers me because I’ve found the solution to all my problems. “This year, I’m going to be completely present and stop setting impossible expectations I can’t meet.”

. . . mmkay

How do I observe the new year as a marker of change, without the pressure to magically be perfect?

After asking a big, honking question I don’t have the answer to yet, I’ll start with, “What’s true?”

It’s winter. It’s cold and dark out. It’s ‘the holidays.’ We might be on break, traveling or outside our normal routine. Some of us are with people that stress us out. I’m going to take a big swing and say, some of us are tired. There’s a lot going on.

I’m struggling to generalize about who you are, what you’re experiencing, what I’m experiencing and offer answers.

I want to be able to tell you one thing. I want to give you whatever you’re here hoping to get. And yet, I’m just another human person on the other side of a screen riding the waves of whatever the hell this all is.

There is no ‘one way.’ No new year’s resolution to save us all. No permanent arrival. There are moments of clarity. There are moments of connection. There are moments when we recognize the absurd truth and just laugh.

That feels good.

To open up and let all the messiness, imperfection and incompleteness breathe.

There’s no one way. But there is a little freedom at the bottom of the truth.

More of that, please. More laughter. More truth. More closeness. Okay?