Archive for the ‘red tent’ Category

Self Love Makes Lotsa Love Kittens

April 20, 2013

kittens galore

The more we love ourselves, the more love we’re able to receive and the more love we can pour onto the world freely.  If you do the math, you’ll end up finding that self love multiplies like bunnies and kittens.

A calculator cannot add up the exponential and radical profusion of miraculous ripples of good that reverberate into the ethers and bounce back.  No miracle shelter could begin to hold the colossal volume of overflowing goodness babies that proliferate the population when a being practices self love.

Giving without expectation of reward is only possible if one has mastered self love.  One who cannot love themselves fully is tethered energetically with invisible iron cords of non-release and prosperity constipation. Gifting doesn’t happen.  What happens is unspoken bartering, gift wrapped with a bow.  The poor sucker receiving this package is now under scrutiny.

This type of sad affair causes all manner of unappreciated gifts, unfulfilled expectations, and even some outright victimization, illnesses, and swampy nose dives of despair. Among other things, it’s just tight and contracted.  Ouch.  Love can barely squeeze in and love can barely squeeze out.  Suffering ensues.

The antidote for all of this is to do the unthinkable.  Overdose with self love lubricant.  It’s what society tells us is selfish, what mama taught us good girls don’t do, and what we feel like we should be hiding. We need to overdose, because we’re sorely lacking and because when one is malnourished, drastic measures are necessary.

We need high potency self love, pleasure breaks, bubble baths, treats, hugs, massages, laughter, happy movies, snuggling and cuddles, sweet smelling stuff, dancing wild, sleeping naked on satin sheets, crying in a pair of strong and loving arms, letting someone brush our hair, lounging around doing absolutely nothing while sipping expensive liquids, or what. ever. it. takes. We need sessions of proclaiming our gratitude for every single thing we see in the mirror from a hang nail to the curve of our cheek.

People, this is an international emergency.  Self love is the red cross of getting off the cross and caring for the only one that is right here in this moment.  You.

~Oceana LeBlanc is a transformational leader, women’s empowerment coach, tantric yogini, and shaman.

http://www.goddessoceana.com

Some Good News

April 19, 2013

Image

I have some *good* news. You are love, lovely, loving beyond anything I could have imagined. Keep up the good work. I see you.

When the shit hits the fan, it’s you that shows up with paper towels and soap, rolling up your sleeves.  In the middle of the night, you’re there praying for the poor, lonely soul that weeps and longs.  When I fall down, you show up and help me up off my knees and ask if I’m okay.

In the midst of a life or death crisis, you blast out a call to the many in efforts to pull together and bring everything you’ve got. That time when I moved and we were so sick of eating pizza, you showed up out of nowhere with a huge pan of healthy dinner.  You even gave me the recipe.

When she was driving for seven hours alone, she passed your place and you invited her in, fed her, and opened your home with a clean place to rest her head.  As you said your goodbyes, you loaded her arms with gifts and smiles, and a great big bag of come back anytime.

That time when his best friend moved away, you stepped up without missing a beat.  You came to be my audience on my most nervous, scary first time and wrote the best review.  Someone called you crying in complete despair and you listened with so much love for a full hour until they were all better again.  You were sitting in your car the whole time but you never mentioned it.

You were one of the only ones to make time to visit him in the hospital, and you stayed longer when you realized no one else was showing up.  You stopped to pick up the trash in that public bathroom to make it nicer for the next person.  When you dished up dessert, you gave them the biggest pieces even though it was your favorite.

You were terrified, but you still went first because you knew they were terrified as well.  They said some really mean things to you, but you decided to see that it was their fear talking and responded with love.

I could go on forever, which is what’s so stunning.  There’s plenty of room here for you to fill in the blanks, my friend.  Suffice it to say that you are love, loving, and loved beyond measure.  Keep up that good work, because I so totally see you.

~Oceana Leblanc is a transformational leader, women’s empowerment coach, tantric yogini, and shaman.

http://www.goddessoceana.com

How Do You Wake Up?

April 18, 2013

waking up cranky

Sometimes we are rudely awakened.  I had a spiritual teacher once who told me that the way people wake up from a deep sleep is generally the way they react in life.  She said that people who wake up angry are really pissed off, and people who wake up so sleepy they can barely awaken go through life half asleep or unconscious. Others who have a sunny disposition wake up happily.  Some people even wake up quickly and get to task, and some are so busy doing that they’re always sleepwalking.  Through the years I’ve remembered this and pondered it.  I don’t know if I believe it’s a hard and fast rule, and I certainly don’t believe that people never change, but there is some seed of truth to it that keeps bringing it back to consciousness.

In the past few days I’ve been watching all of the beautiful and ugly ways in which people awaken to tragedy.  For the most part, we are fortunate in the west for the ways in which we thrive, the privilege of creature comforts and enough to eat.  Wars don’t generally happen here in our yards.  At least not the obvious types of war.

There are other wars we engage in, though.  Another spiritual teacher I had for ten years had travelled extensively and done relief work in war-torn countries. In one place she was trying to teach and feed young children in a poverty-stricken preschool while they were  bombed daily.  She had lived through more than I could imagine.  I expressed to her how fortunate we were here and how I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t seem to get my act together in such seemingly privileged conditions.

I will never forget what she told me.  She said that the suffering in other countries was tangible, palpable, able to be seen with the eyes.  In the west, she said, she had never seen people this tormented mentally.  The suffering was hidden, and people can’t help what they cannot see. For her, the mental suffering of the people in the west was just as terrible as anything she had witnessed anywhere else.  The aspect of it that she felt was worse was that it was,  as she put it, a deep and invisible suffering that left a terrible void of spiritual despair.

This made such a deep impression on me that I have devoted my life to alleviating this kind of suffering.  Sometimes, I catch people in mid-suffering mode, and I make them laugh so hard that they don’t notice me injecting them with heavy doses of compassion and love. I do my best to teach people to love themselves, and I show them new places where they can perch mentally in order to see their own magnificence.  Other times I tiptoe around sleeping folks so as not to wake them up, because awakening them would surely bring on a worse suffering.  There are times when sleeping is, after all, better medicine.

In times like these, I just pour love straight onto wounds.  I don’t need to wake anyone because they’ve all heard the alarm, and I stand here praying while the universe reorganizes everything in a big scary blender of total chaos.  I pray for us to remember that deep inside we are all love no matter what the appearances will have us believe. I pray mostly for a world of compassion and peace, and that those waking up angry, confused, hurt, tortured, or insane will be held and rocked in such a safe blanket of love that their suffering melts completely and is replaced with wholeness and joy.  You may be thinking right now that I’m dreaming because this is a fantasy, but I’m actually wide awake and just plain stubborn. I refuse to hold any other vision than a world of peace and love.

~Oceana LeBlanc is a women’s empowerment coach, tantric yogini, and shaman.

http://www.goddessoceana.com

Killer Queen, Are You Ready to Dynamite Your Upper Limits with a Laser Beam?

July 12, 2012

She’s a Killer Queen
Gunpowder, gelatine
Dynamite with a laser beam
Guaranteed to blow your mind
Anytime

~Queen

The line from this song is finally in the right time and the right place on planet earth, thanks to the futuristic super powers of Freddy Mercury.  Is your upper limit so shallow you can barely get your toes wet in the abundant waters of self love, empowerment, receiving, succeeding, or whatever else you desire? Or is it up to your knees?   I’m realizing that the tide seems to go in and out on mine depending on the time of the month and the season.  Inspired by an article in Forbes by Barbara Stanny,  I realized that my upper limit keeps moving up and down, and this is why it might be so difficult for me to pinpoint and break through sometimes.

As a woman, the cycles of the month have every bit as much to do with how I work at my business as anything else, and it seems to deserve some attention before it takes me down.  I used to worry about the possibility of having to work when I was crampy, bloated, and feeling miserable.  There was good reason for this, because I had a history of chowing down up to six Advil at a time just to be able to walk every month.  I would pray that my cycle would land on the weekend, because there was no leeway in my employment terms that stated I was entitled to two days a month off with paid menstrual leave.  My fantasy was that I would own my own business some day and schedule my life around that time of the month, and bask on the couch, do some deep and necessary dreaming, keep the rice pack warm, and sip herbal tea.

Now that I finally have my own business, I’m also in menopause and I never know when that time will occur.  I’ve tried for the last few years to schedule my life around it, to no avail.  When I have a big event, my cycle mysteriously shifts as if it’s an event seeking missile aimed at destroying every single attempt at a great presentation or an enthusiastic networking experience.  A force greater than my good intentions to stretch my upper limits is at work here, I am convinced.   It’s not necessarily bad, but it’s clearly vying for my full attention.

So what does Gay Hendrick’s famous upper limiting theory have to do with my period? It has caused me to consider that owning my vulnerability and surrendering to what is present in my life is actually a way for me to stretch my upper limit.  I see that I have this belief about not being able to function when I’m bleeding, but it goes deeper than that.  This is about stretching in a feminine way and not necessarily in the higher, bigger, better, super-sized way we assume when we think of upper limits, success mindsets, and goal setting.

The new paradigm of honoring the power of the feminine has taught me there’s an internal power I hold that I didn’t know about before.  It’s a capacity to go much deeper and to stretch down into the womb for intuitive wisdom.  Instead of raising the upper limit ceiling, it’s a trip into the antique basement. It’s a quiet, messy, stirring, chaotic, fierce power that’s been repressed for ages, and I hold that it’s time for us to own it, explore it, and agree with it.  Women have the capacity to see the future, know things we have no business knowing just because we feel it in our bones, and we have a force greater than nuclear power laying mostly dormant perched between our thighs.

I’ve spent the last decade target shooting with this power and I hit more bulls eyes every time.  Observation, research, and discipline hone mastery, so I’m well on my way to China via my basement.  Will I crack my upper limits down there?  I dunno.  One thing I can tell you with complete certainty, though,  is that simply because I’m a woman, I’m “…dynamite with a laser beam, guaranteed to blow your mind.” (~Queen)

If you’d like some help with honing your feminine power, go here and I’ll hook you up with a free introductory session.

Blissings & Blessings,

Oceana

http://www.goddessoceana.com

http://www.forbes.com/sites/barbarastanny/2012/07/11/the-1-reason-we-self-sabotage/

http://www.thebigleap.net/

http://www.musictory.com/music/Queen

Appreciate Your Flaws

July 3, 2012

Self care and self love require practice and willingness.  I’ve become better and better at taking time for myself, admitting that it’s necessary, and really enjoying it when I do.  Getting to this place is hard for many people, especially in our acquisition focused culture.  Do more, get more, and you earn the right to be more.  In truth, they have this backwards.  It all starts with being, and in order to just be, we require a certain amount of self love.  Without it, being is impossibly uncomfortable.

I notice that loving myself is easier when I’m more relaxed, feeling more pleasure in my life, and taking time to care for myself.  Having a daily spiritual practice is also another way of connecting to my center, loving myself, and filling up so that I am giving from a full place rather than a needy one.  Still, lately it felt like I wasn’t completely full, and was very surprised to notice some negative self talk I was hearing.

What I realized today is that I’m great at acknowledging what my gifts and skills are because I’ve consciously practiced doing so for years.  The place where I get caught up is in appreciating and loving the ways in which I’m not so skilled, not so perfect, not so talented.  There’s a difference here, where I saw that I could accentuate the positive and love myself up, while subtly avoiding what I deemed negative.

I think the real healing begins when we are able to love and adore the parts of ourselves that we fear others will find repulsive, the awkward parts, the places where we hold judgment about who we are.

My new self care practice is to find something about myself each and every day that my mind tells me is ugly, not good enough, lazy, stupid, silly, embarrassing, or bad…and then focus all of my love on that thing with all my heart.  I’m on a flaw finding mission, to love and embrace the ones I locate until they’re just more beautiful flowers in the garden of all that is me.

Parenting from the Heart

July 1, 2012

I had a rather exceptional pair of parents who had already raised three other children, and they just didn’t punish me.  They allowed me to be who I was, and supported my interests, loved me big, and stayed out of my business unless I asked for help.  Who knows, maybe they were just too old and tired to deal, but somehow it worked to my benefit in some amazing ways.

I find I’m similar in my parenting style.  I’m easy going when it comes to allowing my son to pursue his interests, even if those interests aren’t what I had in mind for him.  This has required some willpower and ego wrestling on my part, but I’m pretty good at it now.  We both come up with interesting questions and we find new answers together.  I rarely ever tell him to do something simply because I said so and I’m the boss, and if I do it’s because I’m personally overwhelmed or stressed, so apologies follow.  Reasons for my requests that seem impractical to him in the moment are discussed, and if he comes up with a better way, we try it out.

In witnessing my internal process about whether I’m doing a good enough job as a mother, I’ve noticed this hidden voice emerging that tells me I’m falling behind, not good enough, that because of me my child won’t be a well-rounded and independent adult.  I’m realizing that the ensuing worry is such a waste of energy, now that I can see myself  doing it.  So instead, I’ve started handing my son’s well being over to his Higher Power and affirming clear guidance in supporting him, and for wonderful outcomes for his highest good.

Last night I received some great confirmation that it’s working.  Usually, because there’s only the three of us entrepreneurial spirits, we rarely eat at the kitchen table for meals.  If we’re home together, we sit on the couch and watch a show together.  I desired more face time with hubby and son, so I requested we turn off the tv and just eat together, expecting my son to be upset and sulk over missing a favorite show.  Surprisingly, he ran over and promptly shut off the tv while exclaiming, “Oh good!!!”.  We proceeded to have a great time catching up on his interests and enjoying our meal.  What I realized is that my lack of authoritarian parenting has actually produced a child who genuinely appreciates the time we spend together, and that he’s not only all right, he’s awesome.

Goddess Oceana

www.GoddessOceana.com

http://www.theparentszone.com/

http://freerangekids.wordpress.com/

http://motherhoodlater.com/our-blog/

http://www.childperspective.com/

Menopause For The Clueless Like Me

June 30, 2012

Had to chime in on this one, gals.  If you look at the symptoms of menopause and bipolar disorder side by side, they are almost identical.  I was having memory loss, and tremendous mood swings two years ago.  First, I started seeing a therapist, thinking I was losing it.  After a few months, he confirmed that I was not in fact, mentally ill, but suggested I strive to slow down with the flood of topics I talked about in conversation because he felt I was a genius and that it might help people to catch up.  Thanks for the compliment, but now what?  He hadn’t helped me figure out the scourge of symptoms With which I’d had been afflicted.  (My conversations improved dramatically, however).

Upon seeing my gynecologist, I was relieved in a way to find out that I was in menopause, and received some excellent information about how to cope.  My gyno is a much older guy, and uses his well hidden intuition along with a stunning history of good medicine.  I love him because he isn’t afraid to tell me to use black cohosh for hot flashes, and he was the first doctor who didn’t have to look up a rare autoimmune issue I have when I became a new patient.  This is a rare find these days, so I’m keeping him.

Perimenopause leading into menopause is a process that can take ten years to traverse and possibly more.  I know, I was stunned when I first learned this tidbit.  It’s unreal, yes?  There are so many symptoms, and challenges that women have that they don’t realize are menopause related.  Facilitating a red tent for the last five years, I’ve learned a lot about this and encounter many women who are experiencing these things, some more than others, and some great insights into the various ways that women cope.

One of the things that’s helped me come to terms with menopause is slowing down a bit.  I haven’t been overloading my schedule as much and I’ve learned to take time out for myself.  Sleep is crucial, and yet I find myself up at 3 a.m., wide awake.  It can be maddening.  I’ve begun to make the best of it and embrace that time as my quiet time to catch up on a book, some writing, or take time to meditate.  It’s the perfect hushed atmosphere in which to contemplate and make peace with my past, and consider what’s next.

Some women recommend a year of going inward.  In our hectic lives with kids and careers, we don’t always have that prerogative, but in place of that we can take small self care breaks.  I wrote a whole article about this on my blog, inspired by something written by Clarissa Pinkola Estes about women and our bone deep need for recharging our souls.  Taking a year of solitude was an ancient practice.  I sure wish I had the luxury of going to a cabin by myself, turning inward and making peace with my life now that I’m 52 and the shift towards elder is taking place inside of me.  Meanwhile, since it’s not an option, I am finding bits of time to be alone, and as a homeschooling mom, this is quite a feat.

 What can we do to navigate this completely messy, unpredictable, confusingly unforewarned time of our lives?  Walking is good for us, taking high quality supplements, herbal and homeopathic remedies, rescue remedy for stressful situations, whatever stress relieving practices work for you…cutting out too much caffeine, times of solitude, and especially keeping a small notepad for notes.  A very dear friend almost a year ahead of me advised me to write everything down.  Everything.  Words disappear even as they are making their way to my tongue.  They mysteriously interchange, and sometimes I sound like I’m on a psychedelic drug trip as my memory, my intuition, and my inner work collide outwardly in a sentence that no one understands but me.  In fact, we are on a trip of huge proportions…a journey into holding our power as wiser elders, a pregnancy of a lifetime of wisdom giving birth to itself.  Menopause is the time to begin to learn to honor this body journey for real or else.

In Crones Don’t Whine, Jean Shinoda Bolen writes “Crones trust what they know in their bones.” They don’t bend the truth to please others, and they are far less influenced by the opinions of others than they were when young.”  This is common knowledge to many women my age.  With the onset of hormonal flux and deep transformation, we have little patience left for giving away the precious moments of our time left on earth.  Mortality kicks us in the teeth in the wee hours as some of us experience waking from sleep in full blown, bodily panic attacks.  We are slowly  shifting towards resting on the bleachers to watch with a wry smile as the younger crowd goes about their dramatic learnings.  We have some darn good wisdom when they come sauntering over, sweaty and exhausted, inquisitive, sometimes wounded and finally willing to listen.  The demands of those intent on swaying us into the next new thing, or giving us ultimatums on what they deem time-sensitive decisions is easily brushed off like a gnat as we solidly plant ourselves in our own good timing.

The conversations that show up in our faces when we’d rather be enjoying the scenery are more easily met with a simple, direct, honest request for some quiet.  We inadvertently offend those who don’t honor our truth, and in doing so we don’t waste time feeling guilty.  We’re glad to have weeded out who can stand in the face of our power and love us there.  After all, the ones left standing are the ones who will actually show up to lend a hand when we’re too decrepit to carry our own groceries someday soon enough.

Goddess Oceana

http://www.goddessoceana.com

http://www.menopausegoddessblog.com/

http://www.alisastarkweather.com

http://susunweed.com/

Women Who Run With The Wolves

Wisdom of Menopause


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