We share a friend. Andrea and I met when we were 14. You live near her now, in the Tetons. She tells me you asked how my brain tumor got there. You and I have never physically met, just as I never met your sister whose brain tumor eventually led to her body's death. But my heart mourns your loss. I honor you as a woman and sister. So I'm here to answer your question. 

When my tumor was discovered through an MRI, the neurosurgeon assigned to my case told me, "It could have been growing for 10-20 years." 

I named her Fidela. Somehow, to me, she was my friend. As was Dr. Lewis Hou, whose Buddhist nature shone through his eyes and silently said, You can trust me to get that tumor out. 

So when he offered the options: 1) We can do nothing. 2) Neurosurgery. 3) Chemo. 4) Radiation... My response to him was, "Let's go in. Let's get it out." Though Fidela was my friend, she wasn't meant to stay inside my brain. 

"We don't know why it's there," said Dr. Hou. 

That was fine. I didn't need him or western medicine to know. I knew why Fidela came.

Right or wrong don't belong in this place. My story isn't "right" -- it's simply mine. In 2006 I did a workshop called It's All Made Up. Its lesson landed. We make up the story, the why, the reasons things happen in our lives. While science is useful, continuously, it disproves itself. Factual, material "realities" are consistently rewired, reworked, rewoven. Just like the human brain. 

Fidela was my body's latest and most effective attempt to get my attention. It was a piercing cry, a roar, a terrorized plead, a prayer from a body who knew she was worthy of being held by loving arms.  

I had a lifelong addiction to sugar and food. As a baby, my big feelings were met sometimes with EQ's tender, loving arms and gentle words. Other times, I was given sugar -- with no blame or judgment of my parents or others who would pass me "a treat" to soothe my cries -- I was given toxic and highly addictive pain killers called sugar. 

I knew this was causing problems, like being overweight most of my Life, but I didn't know that by the time I was in my mid-40s, I would start to greet paralysis. ​

From the instant she was conceived, my body was my best friend. Sure I had others -- human and divine -- but my body was unshakably devoted. Never, ever flinching in her masterful communication. We humans are given this -- being in a body can be awkward or awful sometimes, yet we are always given masterful communication from it. Complaining is senseless. 

Starting in 2015, my body tried five years of monthly Pain Level 10 migraines, to get my attention. I thought she was just asking for exercise, acupuncture and healthy eating. And maybe, if I had chosen to commit to that path of complete self-care, Fidela would have shrunk and disappeared. 

But I wasn't ready then. 

So after five years, the migraines stopped. They weren't working. My body knew she needed to get louder. So she starting to take away the things I loved most. 

I could no longer write legibly. I couldn't throw frisbee well. Highly skilled with both writing and frisbee, two of the great joys of my Life were now evaporating. I was in preschool again. 

So on February 16th, Dr. Hou led a team of eight through a 9-hour anesthetized surgery to remove Fidela from my brain. She was benign, and when my head was closed up with 52 titanium staples, she was smaller than a grain of rice. 

My tumor came to teach me a lesson I've been studying since birth: I am made of Love. 

Bodies that cough excessively might be trying to tell us to stop smoking cigarettes. Being obese might be a signal toward play, greater ease and lightness. When we've forgotten that we're made of Love, our bodies won't cease in their attempts to help us remember.

It's true for all of us, yet we forget. I believe that's why we came into these bodies. Yes, Life's amazing. Yes, bodies offer galactic joy and dancing makes my heart soar. Still, we are an expression of consciousness that believes we're separate from the divine, when actually the opposite is true. We ARE made of Love. We are here to remember. 

I've personally never resonated with "Fuck Cancer." To me, the body conveys Love so pristinely -- whether horrifically painful and scary or not -- that I can't use violent words to greet mine. Or anyone's. ​Fidela represented sheer devotion to my remembrance that I am Love. Whether my body died on February 16th in surgery, or stayed alive, I am meant to remember. 

It's now 9 months into this 2nd Life, as I call it. Near death has given me Second Life Eyes. 

I again feel like a toddler as far as your sister. I don't know what to say. No words will suffice. I am so, so sorry for the pain of your loss. I trust you remember her daily and somehow, some way, are finding a path of seeing and feeling her presence outside the physical form. Human mortality is so very sad. We're being shown that, asked to accept our mortality so we can live each day more fully, through the Covid/human immune system pandemic. And even though there is a Big Lesson here.. .it's still got a shit-ton of sadness in it. There's no escape from this truth. We live on a sad planet, as my Reiki Master said, so... guess what? 

You live and play in one of the most breathtaking places on Mother Earth's lap. You're a friend of Andrea, one of the most playful souls I've ever met. In the 32 years I have known her, she has never failed to embody respect for her physical temple -- through what she eats, how she moves and the laughter she treats like church. 

I write to you today, dear Char, like this letter is a hug. Not just for you, but for your sister, for Andrea, for her daughter Piia and my daughter Helena. This is a letter for Womanhood -- to keep rising into the bliss and splendor of being in a body. While we're here, heck, let's make the most of it. 

Love,
Jessica
​(Andrea calls me Dork Dong because... she can SEE, and she's hilarious!) 

It's late morning on day three at Findhorn, 450 miles north of London on the Scottish coast. I'm sitting cross legged on a maroon love seat while a blooming lilac bush outside darts back and forth in a dance orchestrated by a cool breeze and a drizzle of rain. 

With each day that passes, I feel more here. More me. More in the now. For three nights I've slept more deeply than I have in five years.

I first heard of Findhorn through Tom Carpenter, my spiritual mentor of 21 years, who has given talks here before. It's been a distant trickle in my mind since then, and now with five years of devoted mothering behind me, I walk on its soil. I am here in celebration of all I have given to and learned from my precious daughter — I am here on retreat to write, rest and refuel a bit. 

Every few steps I take on this land, I am stopped. My chest feels throttled by the outright and subtle beauty, and my jaw drops in awe, invoking silence or some sort of, "Whaaaat? Are you kidding me?" This place is outrageously charming, tended to over the years for hundreds of thousands of hours by many, many people who love to create beauty in the outer world and within their own being. It's what Findhorn Foundation's all about. Listening for the divine within, doing our inner work as we tend to this miraculously rich and generous planet we call home. ​

It's striking. It's remarkable. What they've done all these years since the three founders began on a flat patch of relatively barren ground — a magical community now exists for over 100 people who live here and thousands of visitors who come for retreats every year. 

Yet as I am floored by the beauty, tears of admiration swelling from my eyes, I notice something else too — I feel hurt. Like my heart is broken. So I listen for what's there. 

What I notice is that the beauty I see and feel at Findhorn is a huge contrast to the environment I've been living in the past 10 months. We have been living in a city of 400,000 people, and for me that's a harsh amount of exposure to human noise, machines and concrete. The contrast between here and there hurts. 

Here, it's like I'm falling back into the arms of the beauty I want to hold me. Back into the pleasure and yes-ness I feel when immersed in a place where Earth is respected and people actively engage in their spiritual practice, whatever it is. Back to... a place that feels like Home. 

So I fall, and the hurt comes and goes for a day, and then it's gone. As soon as I let myself feel all the "ouch" of contrast, as soon as I remember I can bring elements of this place back with me when I leave, the hurt melts away. 

I hug a majestic, wide-canopied tree in bloom and carry on. 

Writing this post is part self-therapy and life processing, and part share and invitation — especially for those of you who have really wanted to visit Findhorn and have yet to come. At least a few people have told me with a song of longing in your hearts, "Ohhhh I have wanted to go to Findhorn for years." If you've wanted to visit, how about: Book your trip! Not ready for that yet? Write a date on your calendar to book a ticket. 

You're perfectly lovable no matter where you go in life, and... if you really want something, why not open up and let it in?

Since I'm not on social media for a year or so, this is where I'll share my Findhorn photos. Below are several brief slideshows to give you a peek into this place. 

​Whoever and wherever you are, I hope you enjoy this little tour through one of the most enchanted spots on Earth. ​
​

That's a wrap. 

With love for the beauty inside of YOU~
Jessica

Sometimes life feels hard. And sure enough, sometimes circumstances are muddy, mucky and real rough. Especially with our closest relationships, things can be intensely challenging.

Sometimes though, we make our own lives more difficult — usually without realizing we’re doing it. Each of us has much more power to influence our lives than we accept.

The good news is that this is changing.

Every time one of us steps up to sharpen our communication skills, we bring more skillfulness and humility to our relationships. And every time that happens, the world becomes a place that is more loving, safe and kind.  
​

Whenever I discover a simple tool that helps bring about this kind of world, I share it. Reflective Listening is a widely known skill in the world of interpersonal communication, coaching and couples therapy. It is exceptionally simple and I’ve detailed it below so you can practice. All humans would benefit from communication classes starting at a young age, with this exercise being practiced starting around age 10.

If you’re in a committed partnership with someone who’s open to learning new things and wants to see the relationship become more fulfilling over time — someone who’s willing to do their part and not just expect things to improve on their own — you are fortunate. Practice with them. I am extremely thankful my husband is willing to use these tools with me. Reflective Listening has been transformative for our our marriage.

Otherwise, ask a good friend or family member to practice with you. It doesn’t have to be deep or intense -- you can talk about ice cream or travel if you want.

For a short taste of what it’s like, you can take 10 minutes, five each, trading places halfway through. For a fuller experience that might be more rewarding, set aside a whole hour and each take 30 minutes. Or, you can have your turn today as Sharer, or Listener, and switch places tomorrow.

Benefits of Reflective Listening often include:

• A stronger sense of connection between the participants
• Building muscle in delaying gratification, which can be especially helpful for Americans IMHO ;)
• Enhanced clarity about your values, desires and vision — and those of your partner’s
• Improved levels of patience, compassion, humility and peace of mind
• Reduced levels of stress, anxiety, tension, loneliness and confusion

Ready for some of that sweetness?

Reflective Listening: The Basics

1. Decide who is Listener and who is Sharer.
2. The Listener only listens and reflects back what they hear, delaying gratification.
3. The Sharer begins by sharing something they want to say, no more than a minute long — snippets that are short enough for the Listener to be able to reflect back what they heard, once the Sharer is done with each share.
4. When the Sharer finishes a share, the Listener begins reflecting back what s/he heard — not word for word, but the essence. The point is for the Sharer to feel heard. “What I heard you say was…” Now, note, if the Sharer shared something upsetting, this is not the time to discuss it. The Listener will have a turn to be Sharer. The Sharer is free to say something like, “I think your sense of style is atrociously unappealing.” And in response, the Listener simply reflects back what was heard.
5. The Listener checks in with the Sharer, “Do you feel like I heard you?” or “Is that the essence of what you shared?” until the Sharer’s response is that yes, s/he feels completely heard on that piece.
6. The Sharer moves on to another piece, and the process repeats itself until you feel complete with this Reflective Listening practice session. It can be emotionally tiring, especially if things have been “bottled up” and this is your first time practicing. Take a break. Come back to it later.  
7. A nice place to end is this → The Sharer checks to see if they have anything left to share, by scanning their mind and heart for the most important thing they could share with the Listener. What is something that’s really important, that wants to be said? Try ending with that, squeezing all the juice outta the lemon. ;)

Try it, let me know how it goes for you, send me an email if you want to share what worked and what didn't. Be gentle with yourself. Even a simple exercise can be challenging, especially when it has the potential to bring about so many positive changes.

And if you find yourself all jazzed up about the power of Reflective Listening, share this link with a friend who’s struggling in relationship. Or if you have the spirit of Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood and Sesame Street running through your veins like I do, and being a good friend is enormously important to you in life, call a friend on the phone today and tell them you want to gift them 20 minutes of your time, as Listener in this exercise. Lead them through it.

It feels really, really good to have someone truly listen.

Of the hundreds of people I’ve met and had conversations with, there are probably 10 who I consider to be masterful listeners. To those people, thank you. I’m not there — yet. I am definitely on my way. To all of us who are heading that direction, kudos, it is good to be in your company!
​

Anyone who’s been in a committed relationship knows it’s not easy. Down the line, divorce and affairs are common. Couples begin with starry-eyed mutual adoration and eventually find themselves facing some of their toughest life’s work.

​Those who are a good match, with shared values and vision, who are willing to do the work presented by the relationship, can end up in an extremely satisfying place with an expanded sense of what’s possible in life. Maybe you know a couple who has made it this far.

There’s no right or wrong — in my book — about whether you have or haven’t made it through huge bumps and reached the other side. It doesn't make you more worthy of love, just because you have done the work partnership has presented to you, and come to a place of discovering you are both “new” people with grown spiritual and emotional muscle.

Whether we do this or that, whether we show the face of fear or love more often, we are all equally worthy of love. Still, it is very impressive and worthy of applause when two people do reach the "other side" in relationship.

If you are someone who’s done the work of long term intimate partnership, I commend you. I applaud you. Please share your insights with others, however it feels natural for you. People all over the world are longing for more satisfying relationships, and sadly, many are not willing to ask for help.

One of the big dying myths of our time is the myth that we don’t need each other.

Why stand at the wedding altar and ask that all all our guests be witnesses and help us out when things get tough, if we aren’t willing to ask them for help when we need it?

Friends, cousins, peers, coaches, many people in our lives would be happy to offer wisdom or a listening ear when we face relationship challenges. I am outrageously fortunate to have worked with a masterful relationship coach for 13 years. There are countless mediocre coaches out there, yet there are great ones too and there is one who’s a match for every one of us. And in asking for help, from whoever you ask, there is deep sweetness awaiting your soul. That place within you that values yourself enough to feel worthy of support, is a very sweet place. 

If you’ve got one really good friend, or a sister or father or neighbor who genuinely cares for you, ask for help, alright?

There is no need to struggle in relationship.

Let us not wait for hurricanes, wildfires and war to teach us that Love is the way. Giving it, receiving it, any way you look at it... Love is the light.

If you're like me, something intense happens when you see a fluffy slice of flan (my mom's is the best) topped with vanilla bean ice cream, or a dainty pot of crème brûlée. It's not only your mouth that waters; your soul drools. Inside that first bite lies a seduction of the senses, a taste of heaven's gate, pleasure not only for your taste buds but for your eyes, tongue, the tissue on the insides of your cheeks, your throat. All of you is lusted. 

And if it isn't sugar, it might be alcohol or other drugs, overworking, shopping, gambling or pornography. There are many ways we humans seek connection, deep sweetness, a sense of freedom, outside ourselves. Not everyone tries to "externally resource" what can only be found within us, but many of us do.

It's commonly called addiction. And I'm writing letters to it. 

I was a kid when I befriended sugar. Through the trauma of my parents' divorce, sugar became my go-to for facing emotional intensity. Chocolate chip cookies were always available and easily sent my tears into some other distant closet. 

For at least 20 years I've made attempts to resolve this unhealthy dependency. Unlike my husband, who could eat ice cream every few months, or not, I could eat it ravenously on a daily basis.

And every time, every time, inside this cycle, guilt would follow. It has done so for all the years in my memory, at least since high school, ever since I became aware that my relationship with sugar was strikingly out of balance. 

I'm not a lazy person. As someone who is highly self-determined, proactive, and motivated to reach deep within myself into the arms of Love, to heal wounds in life, it's been frustrating and discouraging that all of my efforts have tanked. Again I return to the butter and puff of a divine croissant, or the organic dark chocolate peanut butter cups that mimic my Reese's addiction from childhood. Not every few weeks or so. Habitually. Out of longing. Every-other-daily. And again, ah yes, Hello Guilt, there you are again, oh-so-reliable and anticipated. 

One thing that's clear now is that I'll try another 1,000 times to clear this up, if I have to. I will do everything in my capacity -- I will call upon angels -- to not die in this dance. If it's deep sweetness I'm longing for, the kind I feel when I'm entangled in the presence of my daughter, well then I'll find that somewhere other than within a pint of Strauss Mint Chip ice cream. 

Something is shifting. I can feel it in my bones. I could write a lot about this whole realm, and for now I'll stick with this: Writing a letter to your addiction is a very powerful thing. 

Two mega-powers convene: 1) Writing things down. Scientifically proven to have a significant impact, writing things down is an act of listening to what's showing up and landing it on paper. Giving it a place to reside, outside the constant craze of your addiction thoughts. It frees you up. It loves what is, by putting it on paper. 2) Being in conscious relationship. Relationship is the core of life. Being self-determined, proactive, consciously engaged in your relationship with this thing -- this "addiction" -- you've given your power over to, is very powerful. Writing a letter is an excellent way to stand in conscious relationship. 

It just so happens that letter writing is my lifelong art. At this point I've written two "Dear Sugar" letters and throughout this spring, I will be sharing elements of this rich process that feel helpful for others: blog readers, peers, companions, fellow travelers in this sad and beautiful human journey. 

But for now, I've been told by some wise friends that it is very helpful to have a template. Not everyone loves writing letters and makes a practice of it, and even those who do can sometimes use the support. 

Give it a shot. Pull out some paper and a pen. Here is a template to use for your own Dear Sugar letter. Or Dear Booze, or Etsy, or Maryjane, or Unavailable Men. If there's something you habitually turn to for consolation when you know it tends to leave you feeling guilt or shame, that's the thing. 


Dear ______________,

I notice... (you're speaking up a lot these days, it's clear you have a lot to say, I feel upset by all the stuff you're saying...etc... any observations you have, just noticing...)

I am listening. I hear... (that you think I'm not a good mom/lover/wife/woman/person/friend... that you don't find me to be gifted/honest/loving/deserving/capable/etc...)

I want to honor what you have to say. Yet ultimately you won't be allowed to drive this car. To make decisions. To play a leading role in my life. I simply want you to know you matter and you're being heard. I am open to what you have to share with me. What else do you have to share? (list, list, list...)

What I want for myself is...

Yes- I want more of __________, __________, ____________... and less of ______________. 

Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me. I am here to listen until it feels like our conversation is complete. I'll be back. I'll be listening for what else you have to say. 

And before I go, I will fill up my cup with some self love. 
I acknowledge myself for _____________________________ and
I acknowledge myself for _____________________________ and 
I acknowledge myself for _____________________________ ... 


From  /  Love /  Sincerely   /  All For Now   /  Thanks,

______________