Dear Normal, I Miss You, But I’m Heading on the (S)Hero’s Journey

Last week, I offered the members of the Sovereign Writers Circle this writing prompt:

Write a Letter to “Normal”

As the world seems to change by the hour and things that were totally commonplace just a week ago seem like an impossible, distant dream, we are constantly being asked to adapt to a new normal.

Spend some time considering what “normal” is. What was normal then, what is normal now? What is this thing they call “normal” anyway?

One of our Sovereign Writers shared the most simple and true opening line:

Dear Normal, I miss you…

Amen! Isn’t that something we’re all feeling right now?

We miss “Normal,” but the greatest stories require us to leave Normal behind 

As is so often the way, you only see the real possibilities of your creation after you put it into the world and let people make it their own.

When the members of the SWC talked about various understandings of “normal,” I saw something totally new contained within that prompt of mine.

I saw the start of the Hero’s Journey.

If you’ve spent any time thinking about storytelling, you’ve probably heard about Hero’s Journey. The scholar Joseph Campbell compared ancient myths from around the world and found a common story across a host of cultures that described the individual’s process of “becoming.” This framework has been applied to everything from the creation of epic movie sagas to the development of brands and personal narratives.

As the Hollywood story consultant Christopher Vogler describes it in The Writer’s Journey, the classic Hero’s Journey begins with a Call to Adventure that causes the (s)hero to leave the everyday “normal” work and go on a great and dangerous quest.

The most well-known examples of heroes who trace this journey, of course, are Dorothy leaving Kansas for Oz and Luke leaving Tatooine to take on the Empire. Think of these iconic characters and their worlds we know so well…

“Normal” wasn’t necessarily perfect. Both of them hated their pokey old farms and longed for something more.

They didn’t make the leap just because they yearned for adventure, however. They answered that Call to Adventure only when faced with calamity. Dorothy got swept up in a tornado. Luke’s aunt and uncle were killed by storm troopers. They had no choice but to respond to a moment of great disruption.

At the conclusion of a the story, after many travails, and with the help of many allies, the protagonist returns to where the story began. They’ve changed in some fundamental way and are now armed with the elixir, the great wisdom or solution that will benefit everyone who stayed behind in the Ordinary World.

We are all at the same point in the Hero’s Journey

Before I go on, I want to mention the true heroes in this pandemic.

Hospital employees - from cleaning staff to receptionists to doctors to respiratory therapists - are saving lives and helping people transition. Volunteers are making masks at home and aid workers are delivering food and supplies to people confined without resources. Grocery store staff and delivery workers are keeping life going for all of the healthy, huddled masses. I recognize them and thank them all.

So, when I say “we” are all at the same point in the Hero’s Journey, I mean all of us who might have the time to sit down to write a letter that begins, “Dear Normal, I miss you…”

I am writing this post for those of us who are riding out Covid-19 on the couch, worrying about keeping the kids busy and keeping the business running. I am writing for those of us who haven’t been thrust out of “normal” by great calamity. (Yet.)

It’s my sincerest prayer that everyone who reads this will not encounter a life-changing, journey-defining event during this pandemic. Sadly, I think it’s inevitable that some of us will suffer great loss, but we’re not even at the middle of this crisis yet, and we just don’t know.

No matter what happens in the weeks to come, we are all at that point of beginning a great new adventure because we’re never going to be able to go back to life as it was.

We’ll never look at a supermarket aisle full of toilet paper or a full bottle of hand sanitizer in the same way.

When we’re back on Main Street again and the world is again open for business, we will undoubtedly see empty storefronts because beloved small businesses and restaurants will not be able to come back from.

People we love up close or admire from afar will die. We’ll all understand that life, society, and the economy are much more fragile than we imagined.

The Journey Ahead Will Be Terrible and Beautiful

Like Dorothy and Luke, we don’t have choice about leaving Normal behind.

If you want to be the shero of your own life - to stand Sovereign in your own life - you need to accept this call to step out of the reality that was and into the strange new world. (Metaphorically, of course. We’re not stepping anywhere except on a socially distanced walk in the sunshine.)

The way ahead is full of risk and loss and there’s no guarantee that New Normal will be as comfortable as the old one. It certainly won’t be as innocent.

But that’s how stories work. That’s how life works.

We are living the story right now. None of us knows quite what will happen next. Soon, we will begin to tell the story of how we survived - and even thrived - in 2020.

Can I help you tell your story as we all set out on this Hero’s Journey together?

The next round of Stand In Your Sovereign Story begins on September 30, and I would love to have you with us.

Sovereignty In the Midst of the Chaos

I have been up since 4:15 am.

It wasn't because I've set an ambitious writing schedule or that I'm into sunrise meditation. No, I was escorting a five year old to the potty and then sharing my pillow with her. As is so often the way these day, she woke up with "a scary dream." And - happy spring - there's no chance she'll fall sleep once she hears the first bird announce the dawn.

And so here I am, utterly exhausted on another Monday. The details of my sleep deprivation story only differ only slightly from any other I've told over the last decade of motherhood.

But here's what's different: I am waking up today to tell a story of sovereignty.

In the past, my Monday story has often been about pushing through the exhaustion to be a nice enough mom, turn in decent work for clients, and try to serve something other than frozen pizza for dinner.

But this Monday, I realized I can do it differently. My responsibilities as a mama, partner, and entrepreneur look fairly similar from the outside, but there's a shift in me.

It's a shift toward stillness, toward sitting with what is rather than the way it "should be." In part, that's because I've developed a daily meditation habit (just not at sunrise!). In part, it's because I have spent enough time reading and writing about sovereignty that I have actually made it part of my life and way of being.

To be sovereign is to acknowledge reality with all of its disruptions and injustice, with all of its loss and inconsistencies, and to still remain rooted in who you are.

To be sovereign is to be able to respond to the day, not matter when it starts.

When you embody your own sovereignty you're going to have a very different experience than when you're in reactivity mode, lost in the details and tossed about by the craziness around you.

Today, I look like someone's tired mom, a weary woman making extra coffee and snarling about the noise and making it quite clear her patience is at a premium.

But I am also know myself to be the quiet, confident ruler of my own life who can find herself on the other side of a short, frustrating night. I know myself to be sovereign in this reality of mine, despite the chaos.

Because of the chaos.

What about you? What threw you off your rhythm last night and today? What practices help you root back into your own power and presence?

Perhaps you'd like to get to know your own sovereign self a bit better so you can handle the next round of chaos that life will inevitably throw your way. Join us for Your Sovereign Awakening, the program that inspires you to awaken your own magic, your own self-worth, and your own power.

We begin on Monday, May 13. Get the details here: 

Forget Your Deadlines, We're On Sovereign Time

Time.

It is what it is, right? Relentless and uncaring. Immutable and inevitable.

We can lose ourselves in time travel fantasies. (Who else is an Outlander fan?)

We can agree that time flies when you’re having fun and that it crawls when you’re stuck with a task that you dislike. 

But really, we just have twenty four hours in a day and the calendar pages will constantly flip and we’ll all be another year older when May 2 comes around once again.

And yet… Is this all there is? Could there be an alternative? What if we didn’t need to buy into the relentless progression of time and those killer deadlines we live (and die) by?

Our Life-and-Death (Mis)Understanding of Time

Funny that we’ve all signed on to honor our deadlines - especially since none of us were soldiers in the American Civil War.

What was a deadline exactly?  “A line drawn within or around a prison that a prisoner passes at the risk of being shot.”

The folks at Merriam Webster are certain of the 19th century bloody origins of “deadline,” but they’re pretty vague about how, over the next one hundred years, we collectively agreed that this term was about time management rather than inmate management. The dictionary doesn't say much about why we went on to co-opt this dire word to describe all sorts of mundane tasks either.

But then it makes perfect sense that “deadline” emerges from the language of war. We’re constantly in a battle with time, right?

Let's End Our Punishing Relationship With Time

Presumably, the men in those prison camps who were hellbent on survival would do everything they could to distance themselves from that line in the turf, but here we are, planning our lives around deadlines every damn day.  

Honestly, what is up with that?

There really is another way.

I recently rediscovered a French philosopher I studied in grad school named Julia Kristeva. She coined the term “Women’s Time.” It's a powerful, viable alternative to the relentless linear nature of time that rules our culture has completely capture my attention. In Kristeva's essay, Women's Time is about syncing ourselves to the cycles of nature and the sweep of eternity. 

I agree. And, for me, I take Women's Time further into being about creativity, flexibility, and giving ourselves permission to grow and connect in a way that's nurturing, not punishing. I want time to be about the moments we spend living, not a countdown for dying.

Let’s think about what it means to move according to Sovereign Time

These ideas are magical. And they're tricky too. We still want to live and serve in the real world, we still want to make commitments that count and be there to support those who need us. And yet we want the freedom to breathe and dream and let things unfold naturally. 

I'm dancing with all this. I'm weaving the contradictions into my book-in-progress, The Sovereignty Knot, every time I sit down to write.

And - here's what's even more exciting right now: these ideas about Women's Time and Sovereign Time are already influencing the way that I work, coach, and teach.

Last month, I conceived and launched a brand new program based on my forthcoming book. I did it in record time because it just seemed right. (At the time.)

But then I realized that my rush to plan and promote and launch wasn’t necessarily divinely inspired. Instead, it was inspired by the stuff of deadlines and chronic overcommitment.

The good news? I didn’t need to cancel the whole thing and call it a huge, embarrassing mistake. Instead, I just needed to pause and breathe and give the project and the people who are excited to join it a little bit of space.

I’ve given us all the gift of time. I’ve pushed the start date for Your Sovereign Awakening back to May 13.

Why did I make the change? Because Women's Time. Because Sovereign Time. Because the "deadline" I set was too tight both for me and for the women who needed to work out childcare and move evening meetings to be there. Because we don't have to always live and die according the calendar. Because it's ok to be vulnerable and admit the initial timing wasn't right.

You Still Have Time to Join Your Sovereign Awakening

The program empowers you to free the princess, crown the queen, embrace the wise woman, and establish a totally new relationship with time. We'll meet on five Monday evenings from 7 - 9 PM beginning May 13. 

Can you shape your time and your schedule and be there with us?

My Turn, Your Turn, Our Turn at Sovereignty

It’s my turn.

And when I say that, I don’t mean that I get a turn and that you don’t.

It’s my turn to spin my own wheel of fortune. (Please think tarot card and not game show. Unless Vanna White inspires you to take action and make something amazing. Personally, I find Betty White a more inspiring figure, but to each their own.)

If you’d like, we can stand back to back and set our own worlds turning. We could hold hands and turn and spin together too, each held by our own center of gravity.

The momentum of my turning will feed yours, just as yours will feed mine. We’ll share the journey, but we’ll each stay sovereign and complete unto ourselves. We’ll be moved by our own unique power, and in doing so, we’ll empower one another.  And that will prove that we love and respect each other. That will prove that we love and respect the individual pilgrim soul within that’s ours alone to tend.

As I take my turn it feels important to say something: in exactly two months, I kiss my thirties goodbye.

I’m still far from my life’s halfway mark. Did you hear that, universe? I stand in my thirty-nine years of wisdom, of passion, of foolishness. I stand in all my  selflessness, selfishness, glory, and fear and say: I’m just getting started. My own mother might have died at sixty, but I’m shooting for at least one hundred seven, and I intend to make them all count.

There’s so more magic, so more insight, so much more power within me just waiting to be unfurled. I’m thrilled that I can barely imagine the potential. Right now, it’s ok that I don’t know exactly where I’m headed. It’s somewhere glorious, and I seem to be making really good time.

None of us knows where we’re heading, of course. You take your turn not because you know the outcome and can predict the next three moves. You take your turn because you’re scared, because you’re sure, because you’ve waited this long already, and because you’ve been hurtling, inching, sliding toward this moment for your whole life.

I’m taking my turn because, after years of living just a bit outside of my own story, my own heart, my own body, I’ve finally arrived somewhere. After years of longing and searching, everything has gotten so rich and real… Finally! It only took an entire lifetime to achieve this overnight transformation.

Deep down, I always knew this was possible. Deep down, I always knew the only way to change the world was to change myself. I knew it, but I didn’t believe it until now.

Damn, this sounds like a bit delicious dreaming in the midst of the world and its chaos, right?

I dream of sovereignty. In this dream, I choose myself. I choose this bit of earth beneath my feet and this collection of my favorite people. I choose this community, this work, and these words.

Yes, it’s all so delicious. But, deep inside, there’s still this dark little urge. You know the one. It’s that urge to berate yourself for all that wasted time, energy, and opportunity. It’s the urge to hate yourself just a little bit for the lost days, weeks, or even decades. It’s the urge to laugh at the woman who is so bold and daft, who dares to believe in the instant alchemy of transformation. It’s that urge to say “who do you think you are?” with the venomous sneer of an insecure bully.

Yeah, the timid little mean girl inside me wants to scoff and hide when I make all these powerful, grown up declarations.

But then I realize that any part of me that can’t believe in my own sovereignty, in my own power, in the fact that it’s my turn is a relic from the past. Those parts of myself exist in my memory, not in my current reality. The “not me,” “not yet,” and “I couldn’t possibly” chapter has ended. I could go back and reread it and try to revert back to the old stories, but inviting that sort of misery doesn’t really seem worth the effort.

I need to take all the energy I’ve got and pay it toward the future. It’s my turn after all.

Maybe you’re like me and you’re feeling all kinds of ecstatic and all kinds of worried at this shift into “It’s my turn. I choose me. I trust myself to use my focus and my power to make magic that will make this world more beautiful, bearable, and bold.”

We’ve been conditioned to be nice kids who let the loud ones, the eager ones, and the needier ones go first. We’ve been taught to make sure everyone is pleased and comfy. We’ve been trained to be practical and responsible. We’re the smart ones. The dependable ones. We’ve gotten used to taking refuge in our fantasies but we can’t imagine seeing that fantastical stuff happen in real life.

We keep on waiting. And waiting. Until one day, it’s not about the waiting any more.

Instead, it’s about being brave and crazy, centered and compassionate, irreverent and wise and saying “it’s my turn.”

In my world, taking my turn means declaring my own personal and creative sovereignty.

Sovereignty is about freeing the princess (that’s the brave and crazy part). Sovereignty is about crowning the queen (that’s the centered and compassionate part). Sovereignty is about embracing the wise woman (that’s the irreverent and wise part).

Sovereignty is about encountering all these aspects of yourself and finding your essential self in the center of all this magic, confusion, and possibility.

It’s my turn to really  hold space for these sovereignty teachings and offer them to you. It’s your turn to start to look at what your sovereign story looks and feels like to you.

Join me for The Sovereign Awakening, the new program that will inspire you to take your turn and give you the tools to live and tell your Sovereign Story.

Kiss Me, I'm an Irish Sovereignty Goddess

Ah, Saint Patrick’s Day… The day when everyone gets to be Irish and you remember you never actually liked corned beef or cabbage.

You know all about St, P., right? He’s the fellow who drove out the snakes out of Ireland (though there never actually were any there in the first place).  He’s the one who taught the poor, ignorant natives about the holy trinity with the use of local flora. He’s the bloke who gave people across the world a reason to spill beer on people on March 17.

For as long as the modern pub-going can set can remember, these stories of snakes and shamrocks have served well enough over the requisite round (or six) of Guinness. And yet, I wonder… 

We live in an age when we’re called to question the relentless progress of colonization, to consider indigenous rights and stories, and to ask whether the representatives of the church were always acting on righteous authority.

This St. Paddy’s Day, what if raise our glasses to a different Irish story?

In our complicated times, the simple savior myths rarely meet the diverse needs of the collective. When history looks more like a Celtic knot than an upright cross, we might need to drink to stories that are a little more… serpentine.

Four Brothers and a Goddess

Once upon a time (or “fadó fadó” as they say as Gaeilge), four royal brothers were out hunting in the wildest, most remote part of Ireland. The stag they chased took them deeper into the wilderness than they’d ever been before. As night fell and they sought shelter in the forest, there was no food nor water nor comfort to be found.

Oh, what luck! They came across a well. But, just as the eldest brother was about to reach down and take a drink, a loathsome hag appeared. Hairy chin, pocked face, milky eye… the full nightmare of the aging feminine stood before them. 

“I am the guardian of this sacred well,” she announced. “Ye can drink all that you like, but first… a kiss.”

This particular young man was accustomed to the pretty young things who hung about the castle. He’d rather die of thirst than give himself to such a wizened crone. He told her so and went off to sulk and lick his own dry lips. 

Picture a similar scene with the next two brothers. Thirsty, arrogant lads and an old woman who stands her ground, wrapped not in an embrace, but in a lonely passion for her work. Youthful stubbornness and ancient dedication, side by side. 

But then, the youngest brother, Niall, made his way to the well. For the fourth time, the guardian makes her offer, “You can drink all that you like, but you must kiss me first.”

Cynics might say that Niall was just terribly parched. Romantics might say he saw something in that ancient creature’s eye. Students of myth might say that he’d heard this one before and knew there was more than a tumbler of water in his future if he accepted her offer.

He kissed the crone, the cailleach.

The old woman was transformed into a siren who would give any modern fantasy heroine a run for her money, and the two didn’t stop when they hit first base.  Not too long after, thanks to her aid, Niall would become king and this magical being from the well would be his queen.

The old woman, of course, was the Sovereignty Goddess in disguise.

According to Celtic mythology, not only is she the keeper of sacred waters, but she embodies the sanctity of the land as well. The Sovereignty Goddess bestows kingship on the man who is worthy of her, the country, and its people. For at least part of the story, she’s the real force behind the throne.

When we tell different stories we find a new way forward

Perhaps you feel like you’re on a divine mission to drive out ignorance and spread your version of revelation. If you’re that certain of your path and you see St. Patrick as an archetype who empowers you to keep on keepin’ on, slaying demons, and spreading your almighty vision, fair play to you. Let us know how that goes.

I myself must admit I’m not all that excited to jump into the conversion game.

Let’s drink to transformation, a different kind of power, and seeing past a woman’s looks, shall we?

I’ve got my ideas and passions, sure, and I do believe I can help people change themselves and the world for the better, but I can see my story reflected more clearly in the waters of a sacred well than in a saint’s nationwide anti-reptile campaign. 

When I have my chance to show off my knowledge of Irish lore this St. Paddy’s Day, I’m going to tell this story. I’ll tell it because I want to remind folks that no one is too old to kissed (with consent) and because the straightforward, easy narrative is rarely true or satisfying.

3 Lessons from the Sovereignty Goddess (that just may help you before, during, and after a pub crawl)

1) This Sovereignty Goddess, she models what it means to know your value and worth, even if the average member of a stag party couldn’t see it. She wasn’t going to give her power away for free and she wasn’t going to lavish her gifts on anyone who would demean or disrespect her.

2) The Sovereignty Goddess teaches us how to embody the magic rebirth and reinvention. Sure, life may have been hard, and she may have lost a bit of her sparkle and shine along the way. She might have chosen to hide from the world until she’d gathered her strength. But, when the time was right, she could reclaim her energy and reemerge into the world.   

3) Finally, the Sovereignty Goddess shows us how to be the source and catalyst for others’ transformation. She gave Niall the chance to show he wasn’t the shallow cad his brothers were. Thanks to her guidance and support, he would achieve what would have seemed impossible for a youngest son: the crown.

And, the goddess gave the land and its people what it needed at that time: a just leader who respected women and natural resources and could see beyond his own ego.

A note on being a different kind of hero

Let’s not forget Niall here. He’s got plenty to teach us as we plan a St. Patrick’s Day fueled by a new set of stories.

Niall was a man could look past first appearances, meet a challenge, accept a gift when offered, make his own decisions, and see wisdom and possibility where others saw a person to be discarded. He was surrounded by the testosterone surges of his brothers, but he saw the truth and potential of the feminine. Put simply, in this story, he ditched the toxic masculinity and he did the right thing.

The messages in the story of Niall and the Sovereignty Goddess are varied, conflicting, and multi-layered. You might be inspired by goddess’s shapeshifting abilities or the way age is nothing but a number. You might find the magic in the sacred relationship that begins in an unexpected way. Perhaps you just need a break from the old narrative that tells us that snakes are bad and that every sacred well needs to be re-christened in the name of a saint. 

No matter how you read and retell this story: accept the invitation, know your own power, be kind, and drink deep.

Want more of the Sovereignty Goddess and the lessons she can teach us modern beings?

My book, The Sovereignty Knot: A Collection of Thirteen Beginnings is coming in October, 2019. Join my launch team to get a free advance copy and other bonuses!