Respect your uniqueness and drop comparison. Relax into your being. – Osho

It’s probably true. I’m wanting to reinvigorate my yoga practice, so when I had the chance this morning, I probably should have done the WHOLE yoga practice.

That would have been impeccable of me.

But my mind was restless and my heart was only half in it and my lungs had checked out and my body was bored and asking for more. Much more.

It wanted to shake and flail and release and stomp and pound and that’s how I ended up dancing (more like flailing clumsily) for 30 minutes, starting with Spirit of the West’s "Home for a Rest." (A mainstay of all Canadian wedding receptions everywhere. Turns the dance floor into a raving mob of high-stepping lunatics. Guaranteed.)

So I should have deepened my commitment to my practice and I should have worked on my arm balances and I should be well-deep into savasana by now.

But I didn’t. And I’m sweaty. Like... really sweaty.

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Over the past ten years that I’ve been doing this work in the online space, I’ve been thanked for being approachable. Accessible. A model of grace in imperfection. I deeply appreciate the gifts of every last acknowledgment.

But I’m not gonna lie: every time I get thanked for the last bit, a part of me bristles.

The part that wants to be perfect. Impeccable, even. Committed to her yoga practice. Shiny-haired. Polished.

The part that still believes after all this time that those things matter.

Because that’s how the patriarchal system has worked, you see. For thousands of years. (Being the best mother, friend, sister, daughter, wife, careerist, etc. whilst looking impeccable wins all. With extra points for glowing, not sweating.)

And every time I bristle, I am surprised. Of COURSE I am. I know the system’s bullshit. You know it's bullshit.

And then I have to go through a process of all my own tools, including the one where I forgive myself for wanting to be impeccable.

It’s exhausting. And, frankly, just like my wise, wise body was bored of my yoga practice, I’m bored of it.

I spend a lot of time talking about the Imposter Complex. Because what’s happening is that people discount their gifts, attribute their successes to outside influences, and internalize their failures as proof of their incompetence. Fear of being found out means they stop short. They opt out of situations and opportunities that would have them living up to and into their potential.

Yeah. Painful.

But the other part of the story, of course, is that when we CHOOSE to don the mask (consciously or otherwise), then we ARE acting out of integrity. We ARE showing up as frauds. Because, well, we’re not showing up as we really are.

Here are at least two things that DO.NOT.WORK:

“Be the person your client wants to buy from.” → and live in fear that they’ll find out you’re a fraud and the trappings are a façade.

“Fake it ‘til you make it.” → this may get you out of the house (a good start, to be sure), but it doesn’t get you off the hook of being your self.

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So I’m gonna go ahead and skip the middle part where I continue to half-heartedly don the weighty mask of perfection only to discover (once again) that it doesn’t fit, if it ever did.

And go straight to the place where I can do my best work. Unencumbered by expectations of what is or isn’t perfect and reveling in the appreciation for the many, many gifts I have been given. Rooting into proof-positive about what IS true about my skills, talents, and capacity. And activating from there.

(Flailing clumsily as the case may be. Which is its own special kind of impeccability.)

Because the systemic issues that have contributed to the creation of this phenomenon boggle the mind in their vastness.

We will need our hands free from holding up ill-fitting masks so they can tear down the system. Brick by gilded brick.

Skip the middle part with me, will you?

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 Check out my free training on the 5 Shifts Our Clients Use to Overcome the Imposter Complex and Grow their Income and their Impact

Where I pull back the curtain on five shifts to start raising voices, rates, and hands all while being the kind, congruent, and authentic leader I know you to be.

It was the only fish shop open in Toronto on Good Friday. I was waiting for my purchased red snappers to be cleaned by the fishmonger, lost in thought about how to cook them for the Easter dinner feast.

I felt her energy before she joined me at the counter with her dozens of teeny fish. Sweet little old Italian woman. You can already picture her, right? Four foot nothing, standing solidly in sturdy, practical black shoes, nude stockings, mid-calf skirt, black coat, short curly hair, and glasses that amplified her loving eyes and have clearly seen their share of babies born and relatives passing.

I asked her what she planned on doing with all those fish. She did her best to hide her surprise at the insanity of my question, but recognizing my lack of understanding about Old Country ways, she told me patiently, but in great and elaborate detail about the soups she would make, the frying she would do, the stocks. But most of all, the frying. Her Antonio, her son, and her grandkids liked it best. And it’s Good Friday after all. (Here, she made the sign of the cross.)

And just like that, I fell in love.

She told me that this was her second trip to the fishmongers in two days as they had sold out of the fish yesterday - the day of a freezing rain storm. The day that saw me fall on my ass not twice but thrice on the slippy, drippy, trippy sidewalks. I asked if she had fallen. Just once, she said, but she was so short she didn’t have too far to fall. She laughed.

She had no car (judging by the thickness of her glasses and her age, I suspect if she ever had her license it had been revoked some time ago), so she took multiple buses and subways to get the fish.

She asked where I lived, and I told her. Of course. So she asked for a ride to the subway. Her morning wait for the bus had been 30 minutes because of the holiday. I have never in my life been so delighted to say yes.

But first, of course, we had to wait for her millions of teeny fish to be gutted and de-headed. Which, as you can imagine, took some time. So we talked. And then we talked and talked and talked some more.

As we got into the car, I turned on her seat warmer and she scoffed that her butt could take the cold. It had endured far worse, she assured me. I well-believed her. (But kept the warmer on just the same.)

I learned about her Italian home in Bari. Her good man. Her son and his decent wife (who’s Sicilian, but that’s okay, you see). About her 11 sisters and brothers. About what she knew to be true from these 89 years the good Lord has graced her with. (It’s only love that matters.) And about other things I think I’ll keep between us.

Just before she got out of the car, I remembered to ask her what the name of the fish was. "Acciuga" she said. "I don’t know in English. Look it up on the phone."

She got out of the car, said she loved me and that she would look forward to seeing me in the next life. I said the same.

I miss her already.

The truth is this: Angels are everywhere. And when they speak, we need to share their words.

Like:

It’s only love that matters.

Yes.

That’s just true.

Love,

---

 Check out my free training on the 5 Shifts Our Clients Use to Overcome the Imposter Complex and Grow their Income and their Impact

Where I pull back the curtain on five shifts to start raising voices, rates, and hands all while being the kind, congruent, and authentic leader I know you to be.

She was maybe six years old when she said it. Young enough to not necessarily know what "suck" meant, but old enough to know that it fit the bill. The age at which I ought to have called her out for her language. But her eyes... her eyes were so filled with hurt and confusion and pain that I let the PG-rated near-curse slide and made a silent prayer to take all the pain and hurt and confusion from her so she wouldn't have to feel it. But more importantly, that she wouldn't have to know the truth that she already knew:

Mean people suck.

In truth, I can't recall how what happened next. If I offered any advice or simply a soft place to land. (I hope the latter.)

I was thinking about this last Thursday night when I went to see Amy Cuddy speak here in Toronto. You've likely seen her TED talk on power poses and the body-mind connection.

Her new book speaks to what lives on the other side of the coin of power. If powerlessness is HERE, we would surmise, powerfulness (why is this not a word?) is THERE. Not so. She says it's presence, which is quite appropriately the name of her book.

I respect and admire her work (and HER presence) and reference both in my work on the Imposter Complex, so I was delighted when asked to hear her speak and then join her party for dinner afterward.

My date, a talented and big-hearted columnist who has received more than her share of vitriol, and I often talk about handling snark and trolls and she was curious to hear what Amy had to say on the matter.

Similarly, during speaking gigs where I walk people through my Step into Your Starring Role process (and we "meet the critics"), I usually get asked about how to handle everything on the wide spectrum from critics to asshat bosses to haters. (Happened again on Saturday when I spoke at an event for 70 women in engineering - and a couple of brave dudes.)

So when Amy was asked a question from the audience about how to deal with people in power who try to subjugate you and make you feel powerless, we both leaned in. (Get it? Imposter Complex humour.)

"Don't try to out-alpha the alpha dog," was Amy's response. AND:

"Stand your ground (literally and figuratively). Try to stay open. And above all, if at all possible, try to find a touch of compassion for them."

Simple, smart, sane, and challenging. Of course. How could it not be challenging?

There is, of course, no one-size-fits-all approach. But I have yet to come across another way. It's generally a feel-your-way-into-it variation on:

1. Feel what you feel.

2. Know who you are.

3. Try to imagine why they do what they do. (They generally know not what they say, nor do, nor their impact.)

4. Integrate what you need (from their criticism — assuming we're not talking about trolls — and release the rest.

5. Surround yourself with the best and brightest and love your lovers.

6. Try to find a bout of gratitude for the teachings they have offered in their own inimitable, asshat-esque way. (You know, like, I'll NEVER manage anyone like that.)

A day or so after my then six year old's declaration about mean people, I circled back and asked her how things were working out with that grade school meanie.

"Fine," she said, entirely unruffled. "She is still calling me names, but I'm not going to let it bother me."

"How are you managing to do that, love?" I asked.

Well, you can imagine how my heart swelled when she responded with:

"My power is my happiness and no one can take that away from me."

You heard that, right?

NO ONE.

All love,

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For more, I recommend Maria Popova of Brainpickings curated this wellspring of resources on managing haters. Specifically: Benjamin Franklin’s trick for handling haters, Vi Hart on how to tame the trolls, and Daniel Dennett on how to criticize with kindness.

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 Check out my free training on the 5 Shifts Our Clients Use to Overcome the Imposter Complex and Grow their Income and their Impact

Where I pull back the curtain on five shifts to start raising voices, rates, and hands all while being the kind, congruent, and authentic leader I know you to be.

I don’t like to write on my blog while I'm in the thick of processing.

When I’m processing, I’ll write in my journal or I’ll write pieces I only share in my sacred writing group, but here? This is different. We have a different understanding, you and I. Or, at least, I have a different understanding of how I am here to serve you.

Something happens in my realm. I roll it around on the counter - inspecting it, poking it, prodding it, walking away from it, coming back to it, and then sticking it into my oven of understanding where I crank up the flame of transmutation and out comes some fresh-baked perspective for me to offer you in the hopes that it nourishes and supports you in your process.

That’s how I see it.

And so, while I’ve been wanting so much to reach out to you, to speak to you, to share with you, the truth of it is that I’m still in the mess of processing some challenging life stuff. Poking, prodding, rolling it around.

The truth of it is that my father has been sick. And though today is still not the day to say more about that, I know it’s time to offer you some of what I do know to be true.

The truth of it is that the most days end with heart in my throat and a phone charged bedside just in case there’s a call, but the added truth of it is that I leave it on my husband’s side of the bed because that extra three feet of distance gives me space to breathe.

The truth of it is that I’m struggling to stay focused. I continue to bring my full self to my coaching clients, to my daughter, and to my father. But all else gets about 60 scant percent of my attention.

The truth of it is that I have dropped many plates. And am certain I will drop more.

The truth of it is that I don’t quite know where to direct my anger, so I shout a lot in my car when I’m alone.

The truth of it is that I’m doing a lousy job keeping people up to date because I am tired of having finding new ways to say: time will tell.

The truth of it is that I am scared.

The truth of it is that I want to write about release and I want to write about grace and I want to write about peace and life and love and transitions. But the truth of it is that none of this process has passed through that purifying flame of transmutation. Yet.

So the truth of it is that I can only share what I’ve always known.

When someone offers you support, accept it.

When someone drops by with food, cherish it.

When someone brings you a new meditation to explore, do it.

When someone suggests alternate nostril breathing, try it.

When someone sends you a video of them singing a Norwegian lullaby, embrace it.

When someone repeats Julian of Norwich’s words ‘All shall be well, and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well’, believe it.

The truth of it is that it will be hard. Because your heart won’t trust it even if your cells do. Your muscles and your adrenals will raise hell and fight you tooth and nail. And the stories you will concoct about what “well” means will keep you up at night.

So allow me to tell you the truth of it.

Well won’t mean pink light and roses and sparkles. Necessarily.

Well won’t mean like you planned or saw. Well won’t mean there won’t be worry. Well won’t mean that there will be control. Well won’t mean that there won’t be tears and prayers that reach far into the night that never get finished because you’ve fallen asleep (at long last).

Well will mean that the faith that you have cultivated and the relationships that you have nourished and the love that you have listened for and the light that you connect with will sustain you. Well will simply mean okay.

And okay will be well enough. For now.

That is the truth of it.

As I know it, deeply and intrinsically.

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 Check out my free training on the 5 Shifts Our Clients Use to Overcome the Imposter Complex and Grow their Income and their Impact

Where I pull back the curtain on five shifts to start raising voices, rates, and hands all while being the kind, congruent, and authentic leader I know you to be.

At the end of November, I hosted my first ever (of oh-so-many) Step into Your Starring Role one-day retreats.

The day was magical. So, so magical.

And it wasn't made magical simply because of the 25 brilliant lights who showed up from near and far. From across the country, and from across the city. From North Carolina and from north Toronto.

Who booked off clients, organized sitters, arranged hotels, fixed flat tires in the wee hours of the morning, and MADE IT HAPPEN.

Who showed up for themselves and then discovered they were showing up for each other.

No. It wasn’t made magical simply because each of those 25 gorgeous participants dug deep. Really deep.

I mean, it was. But, unbelievably, that wasn’t all.

It wasn’t made magical simply because I had the most incredibly thoughtful and prescient Architect of Sanctuary as my right-hand woman that day and the weeks leading up to the event. Who drove in from five hours away to hold the space and tend to the exquisite details of venue excellence and sumptuous catered food and otherworldly flowers and loot bags. And it wasn’t made magical simply because of the prosecco celebration. And it wasn’t made magical simply because the video crew was unparalleled.

I mean, it was. But, unbelievably, that wasn’t all.

Some day - and that day is not today - I will tell you exactly what went on behind the scenes for me personally. Some day - and that day is not today - I will tell you exactly what was going on inside of my heart.

But I will say - today - that I had vast fears that I would not be able to attend my own event.

For once, this wasn’t coming from the Imposter Complex having a go at my capacity, capabilities, nor my readiness. No. It was coming from the fact that I spent the day before the event in the emergency room with someone I adore who is dealing with some pretty heavy stuff. Things were feeling pretty grim.

Day by day, as they say.

But this isn’t about that. Some day. But not today.

This is about how the magic happened THAT day.

It began, as all great stories of magic do, with a "yes."

I finally said "yes" to the whispers I’ve been ignoring for years about creating and teaching my own event.

And when I said yes, I knew I’d need support. So I reached out to Tania. And she said yes.

And then I opened the EventBrite page and made the offer in one single Facebook post and THEY said yes. In under 24 hours we were filled to capacity.

To be sure, there were plenty of times that I had doubts about my capacity, my capability, and my readiness, but when those unwelcome thoughts crept in, I drank deeply from the chalice of advice I asked Elan Morgan to pour me in advance of my TEDx Women talk years ago. She generously complied and my cup has continued to overflow with the goodness ever since. And so, I offer you her words.

1. Everyone in the audience is rooting for you and they already believe in you.

2. Pretend you are telling your favourite client this stuff.

3. You’re the one in the know on this topic.

4. Wear comfortable shoes. Brené Brown wisely wears Danskos.

5. You will be excellent.

6. You can totally rock this. It’s terrifying as all hell, but so is all the great stuff we do in life. It’s a sign of exhilaration.

Yes. Of course she was right. (Though I never ever heed her wise fourth point.)

And when I was tired and cold and in doubt of Elan’s third point and wanted to over-prepare to the point of exhaustion, I would wrap myself in the swaths of wisdom I asked of Julie Daley who heartily and fully offered me this:

1. Leave space in the room.

2. You are simply the vehicle for the intelligence in the room.

3. Feel for the ripeness and use the emergent.

Yes. Of course SHE was also right.

So, so, so right.

And while I had some lingering worry that I wouldn’t be present that day, with so much concern for the health of my loved one, I did it.

I WAS present. I rose up. I made space. I WAS space.

In the words of the 25 gorgeous souls who attended, the day was indeed “magical”. AND ALSO?

“motivating, epic, intense, uplifting, relief, mind-blasting, safe, healing, inspiring, connected, grounding, essential, revealing, transformational, unforgettable, love-filled”

(All photos: Marius Masalar)

Yes, I did that. We all did that.

And you will too.

When you are on the precipice of meeting your own desires and finally heeding the whispers of your soul, may I remind you to:

1. Surround yourself with the best.

2. Ask for what you need.

3. Show up for you, for your work, for your soul. For them.

4. Be assured that your love and deep desire for light creates the space for the magic.

5. Pursue impeccability, but remain untethered to it. No perfection guaranteed, no perfection required.

6. Do your work. As you do best. Teach. Sing. Lead. Coach. Write. Do it. DO IT.

And when you do, you will be excellent. And you will rewarded with the knowledge that you rose UP.

And you will know that magic happened.

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 Check out my free training on the 5 Shifts Our Clients Use to Overcome the Imposter Complex and Grow their Income and their Impact

Where I pull back the curtain on five shifts to start raising voices, rates, and hands all while being the kind, congruent, and authentic leader I know you to be.