The "Claim Your Happiness" candle giveaway

"Words are powerful; use them wisely." My teacher said that exact phrase to me many years ago, and it stuck. Words mean something - they carry energy - and when you speak or write them down, it's like a little birdie carries the sentiment right to the Universe's Great Door and says "this is what She wants" or "this is what He asked for." Unfortunately, we often write down or speak words that align more with what we don't want than what we do. I'll stop short of giving you a crash course in The Secret (which is based on quantum physics) but let's just say ... if you're talking or thinking all the time about what's not serving you, I'd recommend you stop. Like now. And forever. You attract what you focus on.

In that spirit, I've decided to create and offer a gift to you in celebration of my transition to San Francisco on January 11, and in honor of the fact that I know many of you are in transitional spaces as well. In those moments, fear can take over. I'll be honest - Fear has had me in her grips more than once lately. She released that grasp around my waist when I began to focus on love, on happiness, on the future, on my purpose and vision. I invite you to do the same. Speak it out loud. Write it down in the full moon light this weekend. Let the birdies take your words to the Great Door.

I made this candle, below, to give away to one of you. It's called the "Claim Your Happiness" candle and it's designed to help you say OUT LOUD what will facilitate your happiness so you can claim it. With authority. Like it's been there all along. Because it has. Happiness isn't a privilege; it's your divine right.

The candle is wrapped with a custom happiness oil blend I made that's a mix of vanilla, citrus and honey. It has a citrine inside as well as crushed white sage leaves and rose petals, a little yarrow for releasing negativity and even some mullein for courage. It's a potent candle, and it has been made with love. To enter the drawing, all you must do is comment on this post. Write about what you intend to claim if you win. Start articulating it here and now. The winner will be chosen by magical means. These giveaways always end up in the hands of those who are meant to receive them at this time. The winner will be selected at noon on Tuesday, January 10.

Ready? Set, go. And thanks for stopping by. Many HAPPY blessings to you!

You will remember ...

You will remember that leaping stream where sweet aromas rose and trembled, and sometimes a bird, wearing water and slowness, its winter feathers. You will remember those gifts from the earth: indelible scents, gold clay, weeds in the thicket and crazy roots, magical thorns like swords. You'll remember the bouquet you picked, shadows and silent water, bouquet like a foam-covered stone. That time was like never, and like always. So we go there, where nothing is waiting; we find everything waiting there. - Pablo Neruda

The Rose

For my first Mother's Day in 2007, my mother bought me a rose bush. It was not in bloom and had no name.  When the first bloom came, I was overwhelmed by the beauty of each flower. The petals were pink, orange, and yellow in the center; the scent, strong; and the flowers lasted for weeks on the bush. It has always been strong, beautiful, and enduring. It blooms rain or shine. It's been a model for how I want to be - long-lasting and resilient even in the least favorable conditions.

Part of the reason the flower itself is so meaningful goes all the way back to my Aunt Joyce, who died in 1979 of sclerosis of the liver following a decade-long battle with alcoholism. Her favorite song was The Rose by Bette Midler. And no one in the family can hear the song - even now, more than 30 years later, without bursting into tears. I named my daughter Zoe Rose for three reasons: 1) my grandmother's middle name was Roselle, so it's a partial tribute to her; 2) my mentor's name is Rose and she has shaped my life in myriad ways that are honored by the name; and 3) because of the song, because my Aunt fought as long and as hard as she could, and because there's a warrior spirit in the women on my side that I wanted to codify with a name. Rose. It's strong, sweet, and sharp. With all the women in my family, you have to watch out for the thorns.

So as we prepare to leave San Diego on January 11 ( ONE WEEK from now) I am conflicted about my rose bush. Do I leave it here? Do I try to dig it up and take it with me? And then I realized the medicine in my entire dilemma: It is time to let go. Of it all. Even my rose bush, which has lent me so many blooms and happy moments over the 5 years it's been with me. It wants to stay here and perfume the yard for the next owner, who is a sweet woman. It wants to stay goodbye to me. If only I will listen.

Rose bushes die back in January as a matter of course and have to be pruned down. Today, before I pruned it, I took the final buds off the bush and left the same number of quartz crystals at its base. A small gesture of profound thanks for these final gifts. I took all the petals down and gathered the sage I picked with my family in the local desert yesterday. I prayed and meditated and focused on enjoying this last bundle-wrapping session in San Diego. I shared a picture with my SouLodge sisters on Facebook who have so kindly been helping me with this transition.

And then I got to work. For more than an hour I wrapped, and cried, and laughed, and sat with memories of people and places and things I will miss about this beautiful city. I said goodbye slowly and graciously. Each moment and thought felt like a warm hug as people's energy moved into and out of the space. The time passed in an instant. When I came back to my own consciousness I looked down to see I was wrapping the last piece of sage, the last petals - I used every piece of plant material I had gathered so carefully and attentively. And I must say ... I think these are the most beautiful bundles I've ever wrapped. Some of them are a foot long and several inches in diameter. Here's a glimpse of the first batch.

It was a beautiful morning for me, filled with memories and gratitude and creativity and most of all, intense healing that I send to each of you who read this, too, with much love from my heart to yours.

What lies ahead - 2012

This past year asked me to let go of big things. It felt like moving glaciers with my bare hands. Hard and cold. Enormous and overwhelming. In 2012 I sense that I'll have more help moving the furniture around the living room of my life. I hope my sense is correct. My hands are tired and my eyes have seen too much. My heart has bled itself dry. 

But this year was the gift of consciousness-shaping realizations. One massive realization that almost seems so banal it's not worth mentioning is this: Strange things happen to me that don't happen to other people. Here's a tiny example. All day yesterday, a latin phrase floated around my mind and I couldn't translate it. When I looked it up this morning it means, "the blood has been spilled." Even for me, this was a profound experience. Why didn't the words come to me in English? Why force me to bust out Google Translate to deal with my own thoughts? The Universe plays with me that way. And I'll be honest - I kind of like it.

In 2011 I reconciled that I'm different. I reconciled that I like being different and have no apologies to make for anyone else about how incredibly different I am. In short, I learned to shed - in a finally, once-and-for-all, good-riddance-to-bad-rubbish way - the idea that if I were only a smidge different life would be better or easier or ______. It won't and I can't. Chalk it up to me almost turning 40 maybe. But I'm done trying to be other, more, or else. 

The good news is that I'm facing whatever comes in 2012 with a new sense of freedom from constraint or apology. I'm celebrating that sense of okayness with myself as this month opens. What are you celebrating?