It would be three years before I could say her name without my throat tightening up. The first time that happened, my older son was next to me and of course, he noticed. He said: “Mom, I think it’s time.”

We had spent twelve years together, Roxy and I. Twelve years of mornings, days, and nights with very few interruptions. I think she was me in a dog body and I was her in human form. Never a miscommunication, never anything we did not understand. A flow, an ease, a fit. A blessing and a grace. She loved everyone and joy oozed from her.
That Tuesday afternoon when she told me with her chocolate eyes deep into mine that her body was done, I knew that I was about to use my one pass, the one that would free her and would break me.
It did both.
It was August, my younger son was in France and I asked the vet’s office to please keep her ashes until Christmas, until he could pick them up.
On a clear, cold, and windy December day, he and I drove to Roxy’s favorite beach, opened the wooden box, and threw handfuls of sacred dust into the bay. The wind swirled all around us, returned bits of her to me, and glued them to my tears.
This made me laugh as I cried and that’s when I swallowed some of her in a wild baptism of sorts that told me that she and I would forever be together.
In the following years, I traveled a lot and whenever I saw a big black dog, I would instantly weep. Her name always got caught in my throat and I wondered if this would ever change.
Until that one spring morning, when I said her name and my heart and eyes stayed quiet. This is when my son said: “Mom, I think it’s time.”
The next day he took me to the Humane Society and then to another shelter and then another. Visiting a friend in Oregon, I stopped at every potential place and saw lots of pups, but none of them were mine.
Then one Sunday morning in July, I woke up, and I needed to go to the place where we had found Roxy, a decade and a half before. I drove an hour, walked to the exact pod where my Furry Soul Sister had been waiting for me, and behind the glass, there was a whole litter of puppies. Short-haired, beautiful.
But not mine.
We know these things.
As I was about to turn away, a woman who worked at the shelter called out to me. She said: “Hey, there’s one more of them. She has long hair, though.” And just as she said that a little ball of dark fluff came bouncing in from the back and there she was: Mine.
The next day I returned with my daughter who confirmed that yes, she was the one. Now a grown woman, my daughter was barely surprised that there we were, sitting in the same room where we had met Roxy when she herself was a teenager. My daughter knows about magic.
Lila.
Lila and I.
Lila and I on so many adventures.
Lila and I on a new life together.
Never have I felt so protected than in our last few years together. A loyalty like no other. A different way of being a team, a different way for a different chapter.
And just as much love.
Here’s to allowing our hearts to love fully, even when we know this love will very possibly wound us deeply. Here’s to knowing when it’s time to feel the pain, the grief, the choking up, the dread of not knowing when or if it will stop. And here’s to the people in our lives who know us so well that they know when it’s time - before we do.
Finally, here’s to saying yes again, and accepting the Gifts, even (especially) when they are different Gifts, Gifts just right for us for today.

In the last week, Life gave me both a big question AND a very sweet answer.

First, Part One: The Big Question.
It was mid-day and I had returned from the beach, stretched, made breakfast, straightened out the kitchen, swept the tile floors, cut back a few branches of bougainvilleas, and raked the gravel so it was all nice and pretty - as well as comfy for Tiji to pee in. The sun was high and it was getting warmer by the minute. A short nap started to sound like a tempting option so I made my way to the big couch but instead of sinking into the pillows, I asked myself: What the heck is wrong with me?
That’s never a great question, one I would certainly never ask about acoaching client, but there it was, and I meant it.
What is wrong with me that I have become so … so … what? What is it I have become?
So … unfocused? So … less driven? So … lazy?
What was going on?
I currently have about five projects in the works. Two (could be three) painting projects and two (could be three) writing projects.
None of this is rare for me.
I have had a revolving assortment of many simultaneous projects for decades and I have loved - and birthed - all of them. Occasionally it has stressed me but mostly, it truly hasn’t. It’s been a joy. As someone who woke up next to me for years used to say: “You wake up as if each morning is Christmas.” Yes, kinda like that. A day full of gifts ahead, full of surprises, possibilities… Yum, bring it on.
The cool thing is that to match my “let’s do it!” brain, I seem to be connected to a very reliable source of ideas, one that keeps on feeding them to me at the perfect rate. Fun ideas, doable ideas, ideas that invite other people to play, ideas that make the world smile a little more. Ideas that make big waves nearby and also far away. Occasionally kooky ideas (I think about the Sprinkle While You Tinkle Project). There have been Retreats all over the world, books, local events, international events, the Happiness Center, online classes, The Big Gratitude Project, and more which I can’t think about right now because that’s not the point. The point is, it works like this: the idea comes in, I say yes to it, I and often others make it happen - usually quite fast because I am more of a sprinter - it’s all great. Then another idea or batch of ideas comes in and we start all over again.
A great partnership with Life, really.
Until now.
This is what happens now: The ideas come in at the same rate and they seem to be just as good. Except for “some” reason, I am not moving near as fast. Instead of jumping out of bed and juggling all these wonderful colorful balls, well … I go to the beach, I stretch, I make breakfast, straighten out the kitchen, sweep the tile floors, cut back a few branches of bougainvilleas, and rake the gravel. Maybe take a little nap in front of the fan. Then in the afternoon, with great joy, I will walk to my studio and write or paint or coach and get into loving closeness with my work.
In the afternoon.
What kind of schedule is this?
And we’re back to “What is wrong with me?”
First, I wonder if I’m old. Well, that’s worth considering. But … I don’t think that’s it. Then I wonder if I am uninspired and I reject this right away because oh no, I am fully inspired, as in from the Latin “breathed into.” I am plenty breathed into, see the above list of current projects.
I am just different. Different than I have known myself to be, living in a place that’s hot and living in a place where naps are part of the culture and where there is so much levity as well as a sense of “Why the heck would we rush?”
So for the last few days, I have played with this new realization, the realization that the source is not slowing down, even though I am done rushing around to catch-and-hatch all of it.
Frankly, this is a surprise. I don’t know what I was expecting, but not this mismatch. And I am sure as heck not going to let myself be sad about it.
So what am I going to do about it?
My first thought was to be more discerning and to trust this discernment. I like that. Elizabeth Gilbert talks about this in her book Big Magic, the notion that an idea, once it’s knocked on your door and you have said no thank you, will knock on another door. No big deal.
So, yes, there is the option to say no. And I will consider it strongly. But also … what if I want to say yes and yes and yes again and yet I still want to be raking the gravel at 10 am “in the middle of a work day?”
Enter Part Two: The Sweet Answer.
On the phone with a friend this morning, we are talking about projects and we are talking about leadership. I want to tell him about Part One but I know he’s on his way to work and our phone time is limited so I just listen to him as he tells me about his desire to launch a project and about his frustration at not having people line up with his vision. Then he asks me: “So how do you seem to always have people lining up with you when you have a project to birth?”
The answers pour out of me, bullet-list, which I think surprised both of us as if I had been up all night thinking about it.

• First, the project has to be irresistible. That’s the word that came out of my mouth and I think it is the correct one. Irresistible. As in: it would be disappointing to not be part of it.
  
• Next, I present it to the right people. Meaning, the people whom I believe would also find it irresistible and ALSO who have the skills to make it come to life. Preferably other and better skills than I have myself.
  
• Then I create the most fulfilling way to compensate them, according to what I have learned by paying attention to who they are. Sometimes it may be to simply be part of the project, maybe have a leadership role, or maybe have a behind-the-scenes role. Sometimes it will be the credit, sometimes it will be the experience, the travel, the learning, the community. Sometimes it will be money or a mix of it all. If it is money, I will try to prioritize their income over mine, if at all possible.
  
• I make sure to always work with people who understand the concept of Essence vs Form, which is a huge part of my work. If they don’t yet, I will teach them before we start working together. Then one of the first steps we do is to Declare the Essences of the project. We usually will Declare five of them. This is SO important. Because from there on, we are all rowing in the same direction, no matter which boat we like to use. It’s amazing.
  
• I tell them what level of quality of work I am envisioning for this project. Will it be an A-plus project or a B-minus? Of course, of course, we all want to think that we always aim for A-plus work, but not all projects require it and it is important to know this and to pass on this information. Note: we never go for sloppy but this is not something I have ever needed to express because … see the second bullet.
  
• I decide how much I want to be a part of the implementation. I caught the idea, I assembled my team, now what do I want to do? The answer will vary from project to project even from phase to phase, but again, I need to know this from the beginning and share this information. I have created beautiful, very successful projects by 1) only checking in weekly and 2) being available for any hiccups along the way. The earlier steps are really important in order to do this.
  
  
  Ok, ok. So what does this have to do with The Big Question? LOTS.
  
  
  Lots, because you see, I have had a course on the back burner for years now. The course is called The Joy-Based Leadership and I have been asked to create it and I have been excited about creating it - but I have not created it.
  
  
  Till this morning, with the 6 bullet points you just read.
  The baby version of Joy-Based Leadership.
  
  
  I had envisioned The Joy-Based Leadership course as maybe an in-person seminar, possibly a Retreat, maybe a book, an online course, or a consultation program. I had seen it big because I have so much to share and I feel that it can save a lot of pain.
  
  
  But this morning, on the phone with my friend, I got my Sweet Answer to The Big Question, just because he asked.
  
  
  It doesn’t have to be so big. THAT’s The Sweet Answer.
  
  
  Yes, I have loved creating workbooks and days of teaching and figuring out where in the world we will travel next and all that stuff. And it still sounds fun to share on a big scale. Kind of. But now, I like to sweep my floors in the morning and walk the beach before I do. So there’s that.
  
  
  So I write a bullet list. Six points. Important, helpful points. And for now, that feels just right because I trust that they will make their way into the perfect hands. Also if someone wants more, they’ll let me know and I will figure it out then.
  
  
  So maybe, in the end, the other part of The Sweet Answer is this, an Essence of course: TRUST. Trust our timing, trust our bodies, our cycles, our days of kicking a**, and our days of napping in a hot country. Maybe it is about getting older, after all. Which in itself asks for a large helping of Trust. Also, of Gratitude for this magnificent connection with the source, the place where The Ideas live and keep on flowing so beautifully, with such vitality. And then, the Discernment - for the occasional times when a good heartfelt No Thank You is in order.
  
  
  It’s good stuff.