When your ego starts yelling at you… remember this:

Posted on February 27, 2014 by Sarah K Peck

Ever have those voices in your head, while you’re working or trying something new?

That ego. The voice that tells you, whispers softly, cruelly inside of your mind: “You aren’t good enough. This wasn’t very good. Why did you bother? You’re not in shape enough. You should go to yoga class, but it’s not going to help.”

We all have variations of these voices, this chamber orchestra that tells us what we’ve done wrong and harps on our inadequacies. Our inclination is to yell back at it, right? “Shut up! You might think.” And” God, I need to get better at controlling these voices.” We work harder to perfect our minds, to erase those voices, to quash them.

But there’s another way to think about it… what’s the light side of our ego? What’s the benefit? [tweetable hashtag=”@skooloflife @sarahkpeck”]Just as our light sides all have a shadow; our shadows sides might also have some light.[/tweetable]

Perhaps we don’t need to be so cruel to our ego. Perhaps our ego did what it needed to do—it got us started. It got us in the door. It brought us somewhere, and we grew. That pesky little voice spurred something, and while it wasn’t always kind, it brought us here.

Last week I had the honor of digging into these questions and conversations with Srini Rao as a guest on his podcast, The Unmistakeable Creative. This is a different interview than many I’ve done before—and whether it was the nine hours of yoga I did in advance, the glass of wine I had, or the fact that it was late at night, somehow we started digging into stories in a way that I haven’t shared before.

We talk about swimming, fear, why being miserable might actually be okay, and what it takes to make things happen.

I’m delighted to share it with you.

Take a listen over on The Unmistakeable Creative podcast.

Why Writing is an Act of Bravery: A Letter to Writers

Posted on February 7, 2014March 27, 2017 by Sarah K Peck

“Only when we’re brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our life.” — Brene Brown

Writing is an act of bravery.

Each year, when I teach our writing workshops, I get to work with a small group of twenty-some writers, thinkers, and creatives. Inevitably, the process gets difficult in weeks two and week three, because I ask people to share parts of their stories—their wishes, hopes and dreams, who they are.

My students write with angst—“I’m behind! This is hard! I’m struggling!”—and I know this feeling all too well. I encourage them to continue, to press on in the face of fear or worry, and to get their pens to the page as often as possible. I am here to support, to encourage, and to push—just the right amount. Enough to get into it. Enough to push past the blocks and the barriers. Then the insights come: “Wow—I wasn’t expecting that I’d write about that,” and “That was fascinating,” and “I just got lost in a 2,000 word story and I’ve barely just begun.”

Writing is an act of bravery. Writing often means facing your own darkness and light. This is an essay for all of the students in my writing class, but it’s also an open letter to all writers, everywhere, struggling.

1. An open letter to all writers.

Dear writers:

The past few weeks have been deep, winding, and possibly full of emotions as we unpack the thoughts and ideas that have perhaps been long been locked inside of our minds. We have access to our thoughts, but not always a full understanding of them. Emotions can have such a mastery over us, and forging a relationship with your pen can help unwind parts of that. Through writing, we discover deeper truths about what we want, who we are, what we value, and the stories that we tell ourselves. Often we have to write the stories first before we can discover what it is that we’re trying to say.

For the newest of writers, I often hear that these first few exercises are somewhat surprising, bringing up past ideas and thoughts that perhaps haven’t fully percolated or settled in ways that you had thought. Often rough with emotion and tenderness, I find that writing brings up ideas and thoughts that I’m not sure how to frame, or what to say, or where to go next. It is within this context that I offer up a thought of gratitude for showing up to practice, and thank myself simply for embracing the pen and paper as a way to discover new (and existing) thoughts and ideas.

Writing is a spiritual practice, a soul-cleansing, deep-dive into the emotions and ideas we might not even be at first aware that we have.

Writing is a spiritual practice, a soul-cleansing, deep-dive into the emotions and ideas we might not even be at first aware that we have. Some days writing brings out the best in us, and other days I have to thrash through words before getting up angrily to go for a long walk, dance out my thoughts, or drown my ideas in coffee, water or wine. As we uncover the deeper truths and ideas—we become aware of who we are, and possibly the painful moments within us that have been buried for so long.

Write to discover.

Writing lets me figure out what it is that I’m thinking, by putting words onto pages and telling the story of my life, my experiences, and the world as I see it around me.

When I come back to it, I recognize patterns and ideas and realize much more about my perspectives and point of view. One of the kindest things I’ve done for myself is take the time to make space on a page, write some words down, and allow myself to come back whenever I want to talk through my ideas. Not every day is a glamorous day by any stretch, and I often struggle to sit down at the computer in the first place. In fact, it’s amazing how appealing laundry and dishes become when I’m avoiding saying the thing that needs to be said. What keeps me coming back to my practices, however, is that this is the place where I’m allowed to think what I think, write what I want to write, and tell the stories no matter how fantastical or horrible they might feel. I have permission to explore these ideas, without consequence. I can write them down. So, I write them down.

When we look at ways to talk to other people and develop communications (and stories) that teach, share, and explain—or moreover, that persuade—it often requires a deep understanding of the self, as well as a deep understanding of another person. Whether you’re a marketer trying to explain your product to an audience that could benefit from your design, a teacher trying to clarify a new idea to students, or an individual seeking understanding from a close friend or loved one, it is through our words that we take the ideas in our minds and give them shape for other people.

Words and writing are one way that we tap into our soul and ideas—words are a connection device between humans, a way to tell stories and share parts of ourselves with other people.

Words and writing are one way that we tap into our soul and ideas—words are a connection device between humans, a way to tell stories and share parts of ourselves with other people. The more we practice using our words and explaining our thinking, the larger our repertoire of sentences and stories that we can pull from to explain ourselves to other people. The more we write, the better we can teach, explain, love, persuade. Writing, as a practice, gets easier the more that you do it.

Writing is about bravery and courage.

“Give me the courage to show up and be seen.” — Brene Brown.

“We’ve all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That’s who we really are. We all have shame. We all have good and bad, dark and light, inside of us. But if we don’t come to terms with our shame, our struggles, we start believing that there’s something wrong with us –that we’re bad, flawed, not good enough—and even worse, we start acting on those beliefs. If we want to be fully engaged, to be connected, we have to be vulnerable.” —Brene Brown, Daring Greatly.

The beauty of writing, and this is true for me quite profoundly, is that we can often make our way out of suffering through the act of writing itself and often just by writing alone. It is not always the action or the striving that must be reconciled, but rather the understanding and acknowledgment of feeling itself.

As Spinoza, the philosopher, is quoted:

“Emotion, which is suffering, ceases to be suffering as soon as we form a clear and precise picture of it.” – SPinoza

In re-reading Man’s Search for Meaning, a gut-wrenching first-person account of surviving the concentration camps of Nazi Germany, Harold Kushner details the quest for meaning in his introduction to the account:

“Life is not primarily a quest for pleasure, as Freud believed, or a quest for power, as Alfred Adler taught, but a quest for meaning. The greatest task for any person is to find meaning in his or her life. Frankl saw three possible sources for meaning: in work (doing something significant), in love (caring for another person), and in courage during difficult times. Suffering in and of itself is meaningless; we give our suffering meaning by the way in which we respond to it.”

Forces beyond your control can take everything you possess except one thing, your freedom to choose how you will respond to the situation. You cannot control what happens to you in life, but you can always control what you will feel and do about what happens to you.

Writing is not just about sadness and suffering, either (and nor is life). Writing also lets us write the good things, write the ways we want to feel, and give permission to the greatness in emotion that needs as much encouragement to expand as do the emotions that make us seek understanding. Good feelings need space to expand, too. Write about all of it. Tell it.

Perhaps we are afraid of writing because we’re afraid of knowing our own story.

Writing is intimidating for so many reasons. We’re scared that we won’t capture the ideas or know what to say—and we’re afraid of what we’ll discover or become if we do pencil out those terrifying thoughts. in your life do you feel brave or have you been brave? Perhaps your writing journey can begin with a highlights reel: describe a moment in your life when you encountered an opportunity to be brave. How did you react? What was the call to action? How long did it take you to decide to do something? How did you feel before, during, and after? What was the result? Who was changed as the result of this event?

Bravery is something different to every person.

To me, I can find it tremendously difficult to act upon one of my biggest dreams—the dream that I’m almost afraid to make real, the one that seems so simple to everyone else but me. In contrast to this seemingly simple thing, this act that everyone but me seems to find easy, I would rather jump in an ocean naked, swim a hundred miles, or work myself to the ground than admit to myself how important it is. When I discovered the extent to which I was avoiding doing the practice of my deepest dream, I wondered to myself whether or not taking steps to fulfill this dream was even brave. Did it matter that it seemed like the hardest thing in the world was getting on that bus and taking myself to the class I was so scared of? Did each of these actions—even just saying what my dream was out loud to those closest to me—was that even bravery?

Speak up for something you believe in.

The answer is yes. Speaking up for something you believe in, even if it’s just a laugh and a smile; holding your daughter’s arms, saying no with your eyes, writing about a story that hurts to tell, taking a class that terrifies you even though it doesn’t seem difficult to anyone else—this is bravery.

Write, tell the story of your life.

Thank you for reading and writing,

Sarah

Are you itching and ready for change? So many beautiful ways to start the new year. Here are a few programs and classes I love.

Posted on January 3, 2014January 3, 2014 by Sarah K Peck

I have a confession to make.

I signed up for three courses this January, and I’ve got so many notebooks and pens and pencils out that I’m doing geeky little dances around my apartment, although my apartment keeps getting messier and messier. Magazines, scissors, glue, crafts? Check. Class on financial awareness and making money as a creative entrepreneur? Check, check. Advancing my skills in writing and storytelling by taking more writing classes? Absolutely.

If you’re itching for growth and change like I am, the new year is always a beautiful time to try out new classes, habits, and ideas. I find I work best in community with other folks, and with a regular routine or schedule–so this month of January, I’m setting time aside to do more creative writing and crafts. But what will you do? What are you hoping to work on this year? What changes have you been itching to make in your life?

Earlier I posted great gifts for the Holiday, and as an addendum, here are several more programs that might be exactly what you need this January. (Obviously I want you to sign up for both the Writer’s Workshop and the Content Strategy course, but your needs and finances are diverse, so pick and choose what’s right for you).

Here’s a list of books, ideas, courses, and free self-guided programs to help kick off the new year.

Master Classes + Masterminds:

RevolutionU with Good Life Project and Jonathan Fields. A band of visionaries and creatives join together in an intensive 8-week mastermind with the one and only Jonathan Fields. Jonathan has been a voice of strength and courage and I’m constantly learning from him. I’ll admit, I’m tempted.
Jenny Blake’s Build-Your-Business Bootcamp. Itching to get moving on your creative projects and make your business, well, make sense? Jenny has been an instrumental friend and coach–I’ve often called on her to work through ideas, but now instead of one-off coaching, she offers this powerful class.
Weekend in the Woods: Yoga & Writing Retreat with my friend Dave Ursillo in Rhode Island. January 17-19, limited spaces left.
The Writer’s Workshop and Content Strategy for Thought Leaders. If improving your communication is something you want to focus on this year, sign up for the January 13th and February 17th courses. Since so much of our world (read: the internet) exists in written form, improving your writing chops helps you in every area of your life. Sign up before January 10th to join me in the first workshop.

Business + Creative Courses:

Willo’s Harvest & Thrive modules for Creative Entrepreneurs: I signed up for three of the modules and I can’t wait to learn from this lady. Clarifying your vision, creating structure and focus, and thriving financially and the heart of this creative endeavor. ($49 per module).
Hannah Marcotti’s Spirits of Joy January Course: (Begins January 2).I’m enrolled in this and you can follow some of my progress on my Instagram feed if you want a peek into what’s happening. $29.
Alexandra Franzen’s I Heart Email Course: This lady speaks my language. We write every day in email, thousands of words per day, and it could be so much better. The course runs at your own choice of donation amount (honor system). I’m so looking forward to this.
Jeff Goin’s 500-words writing challenge: Want to write 500 words a day? Join in with writer Jeff as he and his community write 500 words a day. (Sign up on his blog and leave a comment
Leo Babauta’s Sea Change Program: A monthly membership designed to help you implement and stick to changes in your life. The subscription is $10 a month and you are not obligated to stay for the full year.
Seth Godin’s SkillShare Master Marketing Class: Opens January 15th. (This is an affiliate link, which means I get $10 if you sign up–so I can take more classes, tell you about them, and generally make the world better. Things that are good. Thank you!)
Tara Gentile’s KickStart Labs: a place for entrepreneurs and small-business owners to feel less alone. Twice-monthly calls and a community of success-focused and vision-driven microbusiness owners just like you.

Athletic courses, coaching, and challenges:

Amber Zuckswert’s EPIC Self 3-week online challenge. I worked with this lady in Bali, and she’s a wonderful yoga and pilates instructor. Full of wisdom and motivation, her 3-week pass is an absolute steal. $150 for downloadable DVD’s, bonus coaching sessions, and healthy recipes.
A Shrink Session with Erin Stutland in New York City (digital classes available). I’ve heard nothing but rave reviews about this lady. Blends workouts with positive affirmations. Mind-changing. I love movement, so yes, I’m trying one of these this year.

Books + Self-Guided Programs:

Your Best Year Yet: A 2014 Creative Calendar from Andrea Genevieve and Krystle Lilliestierna. Featuring 12 interviews with entrepreneurial women (yours truly is in the guide!), the calendar breaks down marketing, business strategy, and steps to take throughout the year in conjunction with the calendar.
The Artists Way. Pick up a copy of Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way and write 750 words each day and rediscover your creative self. It’s a 12-week self-guided program. (I’m doing it with a few friends from January to March. So excited!)
Pam Slim’s latest book, Body of Work. I picked it up and I think that it is her best writing to date. It’s not always easy to describe what your threads are, but it’s a phenomenal set of exercises that help you see your life as a complete body of work–filled with various projects and drives–and less about a singular definition or job. It’s also a huge relief, because you don’t need to nail one job or one description; it’s not about arriving.

A note: pick one and start small.

In order to make change in your life–particularly if you want different outcomes, you have to do something different. Change is hard. It’s really difficult to do new things and to make time, space, and be accountable for the changes you want to make. Pick only one of the things above if it really and truly aligns with your goals. Make wiggle room for growth and change.

In my experience, the most successful things I do start small and happen gradually. They also happen in community–where people can nudge me if I drop off and encourage me to get back on track. There are some things I’m more successful at self-guiding and other things I need lots of accountability for. People, schedules, and finances are great ways to encourage accountability. This is one of the reasons why I signed up for Yoga Teacher Training–to have a program, schedule, and giant financial commitment that would encourage me to do what I wanted to do.

And a quick note on finances:

PS: If you’re short on cash or chasing financial freedom, you don’t have to do any of these things. An $8 notebook and your own brain will serve you just fine. Email someone and ask if you can do a creative swap to join their course. Sign up for 750 Words and start your own January writing challenge.

The benefit of financial investment comes from supporting the work of people you love (one of the reasons why I sign up for so many things), joining a community (which helps you stay accountable), and putting your money where you want your heart to be (also an accountability move). But if you can’t afford it right now, be honest with yourself, too. I support conscious consumerism.

Do you know any great programs that should be shared?

Link it up in the comments and I’ll edit the post to add it!

What are you doing to make this your year?

Easy?

Posted on December 16, 2013December 19, 2013 by Sarah K Peck

Shouldn’t it be easy?

An inside look at what it feels like for me:

There are some days when I can’t get out of bed. Some days when I feel so overwhelmed, tired, and disappointed in myself that I don’t know what to do, or where to begin.

The signs I hang up and the pins I post and the words I copy? They are just reminders to myself, first and foremost. I don’t know what I’m doing half the time. Most of the time. I’m just here, trying, just like anyone else.

It’s not easy. “Yoga teacher training,” for example, sounds like an indulgence when I type the letters into my social profiles, cheerily posting about heading off to practice, but the reality of practicing these twenty hours each week is a face-to-face awakening with the mindsets I live with. Each time, I struggle with being too tired, with being scared, and with confronting my “samskaras,” or the past stories and patterns of truth I’ve got imprinted on my brain. I struggle mightily with quieting my mind, and this devil of a mind drives me bat-shit crazy. A lot.

A lot.

Seriously, who writes 20,000 words a week… just to stay sane?

I write to let it out, to maintain my sanity. I’m afraid that I’ll be insane by fifty and mumbling to myself in poverty huddled in a torn jacket in the corner of the subway entrance, and that no one will see me.

None of this is easy.

Here’s the thing, though. It’s not promised to be easy. It’s going to be hard, it’s going to be weird, and there are going to be plenty of days where you’re in a puddle, confused, lost, lonely, or wondering where to go. When I left my job to begin my own company, it was hard—I had to learn (and I’m still learning) new systems, new organization patterns, new habits, how to prioritize—again and again. I had to learn how to work alone. How to be accountable.

The lessons keep coming.

The promise of “easy” is a delusion, sometimes. Is that the point, though? I don’t think any of us, if we really thought about it, said—yes, the only thing I want in this life is the easy stuff. Forget about the rest of it, I’d just like it to be easy.

No, it’s not about the easy. (There is ease, but that’s a different conversation). First, it’s about what you do when it’s not easy. It’s about realizing that even if it’s hard, it can still be beautiful, and you can still make things that matter when you’re tired, lonely, scared, depressed, or bothered.

In the words of my coach, during a particularly arduous sequence of events: “Just f-*king do it.”

“Show me you can do it no matter what.”

This is when you become better than the best. Not when circumstances are perfect. It’s when circumstances are shit and you do it anyways.

Easy?

When did someone sit down and promise you that it was supposed to be easy? Or better yet, fair? It’s not guaranteed to be easy or fair, and the people who get what they want go after it–in spite of and because of–each and every advantage or disadvantage they are thrown.

Sometimes, things are easier than you could have ever imagined–pieces fall into place, the actions a result of agreement finally locking into place in your mind.

Other times, the fight for what you want, what you desire, is harder than you’d ever imagined; it begs you to give up, to stop, to drop. You doubt your desires, you fear the pain. You quiver, you stall. Many give up–no, most give up–and say, you know what? I don’t want it as much as I thought I did. I’m not willing to fight.

But if you want it, if you really, really want it, you’ll make it, you’ll do it, you’ll fight for it.

You’ll keep going even if it’s years of pain and labor, if it’s a fight worth fighting.

You’ll give up the excuses and the hards and tireds and you’ll find a way.

This is when you become better than the best. Not when circumstances are perfect. It’s when circumstances are shit and you do it anyways.

Do it anyway.

Your job is to create.

Posted on December 13, 2013December 13, 2013 by Sarah K Peck

Your job is to create something in this world. With your human hands, your brain, your vision, your dreams, your desires.

Make something.

Make something with your mind, with your hands, with your heart.

Put ingredients together and craft a batch of bread. Fold paper origami cranes. Make ideas come to life through words and speech. Build a bench. Take a painting class, a wood shop class, a soap-making class, an engineering class. Plant a flower bed. Grow herbs by your kitchen sink. Fix a squeaky wheel with WD-40. Paint a door.

You are the experiencer of the world, and it feeds you and fills you with rich materials for processing, making, and considering. You get to respond by putting your touch on the things and words and ideas you make in the world. You get to make your version of your thoughts with the matter and substance of the world.

Use your voice. Use your mind. Use your hands.

Create.

Creating is magic.

Your job is to create.

(Pssst! If you want to create beauty and magic with your words, and spend time learning more about storytelling, writing + dreaming up beautiful ideas, join us as we begin round #3 of our Writer’s Workshop. The four-week journey begins January 13th.)

What have you done to take care of you?

Posted on December 9, 2013December 9, 2013 by Sarah K Peck

The line between happy and crazy is very thin. The distance between joy and depression is fragile.

A short story.

“What are you doing tonight?” He asked.

“I think I’m going to write, do some yoga, drink some lemon tea, and try to head to bed early–I’m a bit tired.” It had been a long day. Or rather, weekend. I’d been writing nonstop and I stayed up too late trying to do too many things.

He laughed. “A lady who loves working, yoga, and sleep–what a beautiful dork. But honestly, the fact that you love taking care of yourself is kind of a turn-on…”

“No, seriously,” I replied. “I need movement, sleep, and good food to keep me happy. It’s just a short distance to crazy and depressed if I get those things out of whack.”

It’s a dance, he replied. That thin line of health and happiness keeps moving, and we keep dancing with it. Life is change, and we take the tango in stride, learning how to keep ourselves filled with gratitude, joy, and wonder.

Sometimes it’s about the simplest things–getting good food, and good sleep–and that makes all the difference.

Despite knowing this, it consistently amazes me how poorly I take care of myself. I’ll miss workouts in the name of more laptop time, I’ll forgo good sleep, and I’ll pretend that coffee is a substitute for adequate rest.

Sometimes the most difficult thing seems to be taking are of myself.

Our first job is to take care of ourselves. To love ourselves. To nourish and fill ourselves up with healthy food, healthy thoughts, and rest so that we may be of maximum value and service to those around us.

What are you doing to take care of yourself today?

Leave a note in the comments, below, and tell me what you’ll do today!

Desire, Feelings, and Inner Softness: Why Is It So Hard To Feel Good? The Desire Map, by Danielle LaPorte

Posted on December 2, 2013January 6, 2016 by Sarah K Peck

1. A confession.

The first time I picked up my copy of Danielle LaPorte’s Desire Map I could hardly finish it. I watched as social posts flickered in my online vision, people talking about its brilliance and I wondered why I couldn’t handle it. Personally, I wanted to throw it against the wall. It took me a long time before I picked it up again.

Lost in the throes of a job I didn’t want and a life I didn’t love—coming out of a relationship that didn’t work, and a body that failed me, I couldn’t stand it. How did I want to feel?

How did I want to feel?

I wanted to feel anything but the way that I was feeling.

Desire lights the way home, but it asks you to do something important first: it asks you to look inside and examine your feelings.

And that, shit, that’s hard.

2. It can be easy.

Wait, what? But it’s hard.

Yes, it can be easy.

At first, this sentence will make you laugh. It might make you angry. It made me angry.

Because when you’re in the middle of it, when you’ve tried everything you can and you’re working 12-14 hour days and working a few more hours at the end and you still don’t have enough money, when your fat cells congeal in your ass from sitting too long, when you cry alone in a garage because it’s the only place you can afford to live, having someone tell you it can be easy can be maddening.

It’s not fucking easy! You sputter. You laugh. You reach, reach, reach for the thing that makes you feel better right now, because the truth of the matter is that she’s actually right, as are many of the philosophers that talk about the root of desire within our souls,– right about how what you want, what you desperately crave is to feel the feelings of desire, ambition, pleasure… you want to feel good again.

You want to feel what you want to feel. You crave it, want it, need it.

But then, I didn’t want what I had, and all I wanted was to feel less pain and less hurt and less dissatisfaction and so I did everything I could not to feel.

How did I want to feel?

3. A rant against feelings.

Hated it, I hated it, and I just
didn’t want what I had, so
I did everything in my power
To numb it, to stop it, to prevent it,
God-damn-it, I just don’t want to feel this way any more … I whispered,
tears falling on the outside of my
heart, drops dripping across my ribs, well,
I just don’t want to feel anything.

We’ll run from pain, run as fast as we can into the open arms of
Whatever’s waiting for us that
Tells us we’ll feel better,
Even if feeling better simply means
Not feeling anything at all.

The unbearable lightness of being
Or rather the weight,
the heaviness of wanting to disappear, and
What it felt like under the
Heavy oppressive fatigue
Of loans-bills-obligations-parental-expectations,
job application denials, denials, denials,
to-do lists layered all up in post-its,
tangible reminders of what I hadn’t done and
who I wasn’t and how
miserably I was failing;

Thoughts about what I could and should and would do
If I could only just escape
Escape this hell of daily
monotony, droll dissatisfaction, loss.

I called my coach, my listless voice tacking across the telephone into her ear,
goals rolling out at half speed,
Alarmed, she interrupted me and said,
Sarah, Sarah, Oh Sarah,
First, let’s get you to

Sleep;

You are chasing ambition that can’t serve you right now;
a list of things that won’t help,
Let’s pause, pause.
Sink into what your body needs.
We’ll get there, she murmured quietly,
You don’t have to prove anything today
First, let’s unwind. It’s okay
to let go. To be here, right now.

It’s okay to be here right now.

4. Pain is a teacher.

Pain is the corner of our soul, our own personal life coach,
Talking to us through the crannies of our bodies,
Squishing through our insides,
Reaching out, clawing at our skin from the inside,
ripping at our hearts and minds and
often shouting insistently,

HEY, HELLO, and HELP! And
I’M LOST INSIDE OF WHAT YOU’RE DOING,
and then, sitting back, depressed,
why won’t you listen?
This is not the way.

And these feelings are the only thing your soul’s got to
Tell you that something has to change.
Will you listen?

This feeling, this desire, this pain,
This cutting, terrible, thick block
wrapped up against your chest
It’s a voice, a chant, a prayer, a desire
From your soul.

Yes, here we are again,
Desire, it’s a funny thing.
Desire…

And this desire leads us home.

Yes, it really does.

5. The difference between mind-numbing and feeling.

It’s not easy, digging into this emotional work, but you have a choice: you can continue to build up defenses and safety nets, numbing yourself with security and short-term solutions,

OR,

You can FEEL. You can feel what’s going on, and sit into the turmoil and strangeness and discomfort that is, quite simply, your body telling you a story.

When we have pain, we often try to hide from it or run from it. The discomfort of a job that doesn’t fit, of a relationship that isn’t right–your body knows.

And when it starts to feel bad, that’s your soul, speaking up. It’s saying to you, “Hey, there’s more to me than this. I am so bright, and so full, and so capable, and I need to grow past this and bigger than this. We’ve got to leave what we’re currently in so I can be stronger and bigger and brighter.”

When the soul speaks up, it often looks like a scary story, so at first we try to avoid it, because it sounds like:

“Drop everything you know, and walk away.”

And so, when I first picked up the Desire Map, I hated it.

The hardest thing was the most simple: Danielle asked me to feel.

And in a world that’s so primed on not feeling and hiding our feelings and distractions and numbing and avoiding, I struggled. I was mad. I was really, really sad. Things hurt. Things weren’t working inside. Things weren’t working inside.

My crutches–alcohol, caffeine, mind-numbing television at night, running and running and running–were what I had to cope.

I didn’t know how I wanted to feel. I wanted not to feel. Asking me how I wanted to feel hurt. Burned. It felt terrible. When I picked up the book and had to confront an onslaught of feelings–to acknowledge feelings at all–I didn’t like it. (That’s the kind way of saying it.)

I cried under the covers and felt a raw ache in the center of my stomach. My eyes felt hollow and sunken in, my pants didn’t fit. I wore all black and barely made it to work on time, sometimes an hour late. I pulled sugar out of the cabinets and put as much of it as I could into my mouth while watching television late into the evening, impressive shows like The Biggest Loser and America’s Next Top Model. I drank entire bottles of wine and loved the feeling of being drunk. I put on glittery clothes and went to as many parties as I could go to. Sometimes I’d get home and sit on the bottom of the stairs and weep. Climbing them took too long.

What the fuck is this shit, I’m sure I said.

Feelings.

6. The process of getting to the good feelings.

For me and desire mapping, I’ve realized that there is a process to it all.

Sometimes the pre-requisite to getting to the great feelings is acknowledging all the shitty feelings that might currently be present. To get to the good ones, you gotta start where you are. You really can’t start anywhere else. And it can be a messy, painful, difficult unfolding process. It might not be easy right now.

I’m convinced, now, that this is part of the unfolding process.

To feel the root of desire, you first have to feel.

When you cut off the layers of plaque that hold you back, you can shine more brightly.

There’s plaque lining the outside of each of our souls. We build plaque and tartar through life’s wear and tear. We build resistance and protection.

But the current pain is temporary. It’s the space through. Lean into the fire, and walk into the fear, and embrace it. The shaking and stirring is part of the recipe for your greater truth.

There is love and kindness on the other side. Be brave. Love yourself. Be kind to yourself. Embrace this transformation.

Chip and chisel away at the armor that protected you in the past. You don’t need it anymore. You can be bigger and brighter. I know it. And somewhere inside, you know it, too.

7. Bringing desire to light: a roadmap for your soul.

I picked up the book again, the map, the program.

And begrudgingly wrote down what I wanted, what I wanted to feel.

There was a key distinction: not what I thought I wanted to feel. Words that I thought I should feel tumbled out, like intelligent and accomplished and satisfied.

Yet my soul whispered Sarah, I’m too tired, in reply.

I dug a little deeper. What did my mind and body and spirit and soul want, right now, in this exact moment? At this point last year, all I wanted to do was sink into a bed of restful bliss, sweet dreams, and a pile of cotton candy so high I’d be able to drift off into a beautiful rest. I dreamed of Mexico vacations and sandy beaches and warmth. My pulse jumped a little when I wandered by McDonald’s and I saw the kiddie grounds with piles of balls. Sinking in… I wanted to rest.

I wanted sleep. I wanted to feel peace.

I wanted freedom.

As I wrote, my ego started furiously correcting me,
Insisting that these little words weren’t
Torches enough to light the proper path,

I needed to be chasing things like Success and Prosperity and Wealth and Fame.

And I laughed,
As much as you can laugh from the belly of your bed buried under covers of tears,
Said, fuck it, you know, right now,
I gotta let go,

All I want right now is

Peace, freedom, quiet, and joy, rest,
And movement in my body.
Joy, I’d like a bit more joy.

These words became my torch for a terrible winter, a slow process to guide me through decisions, a wayfinding map out of the darkness of burnout and fatigue.

As the world swirled up around me, coaxing my cracked mind and ego with invitations, I used these words as sign-posts for decision making for the current period.

Rest, Joy, Movement, Freedom.

Those became the framework for my decisions for the six long, dark, cold winter months where I shielded myself from burnout and clung to the minimum scraps of what I could scrape together. Did it bring me rest? Then it was a no. Did it bring me joy? Then it was a no. Was it movement related? (Like the joy and freedom of dancing, and how a single dance class could bring me back to more rest?) Nope, not gonna. Did it help me on my path to freedom?

Then no, nope, and no.
No, no, no.

8. Fast forward to today (because it’s so much easier to move time in writing),

Desire, rooted desire, internal desire, internal fire—
The desire to change, to lean, to get closer to home,

The home inside of the self, inside of the soul,
That content, that peace, that
Conscious swell within,
That lets the voices go and the chatter fall
Softly to the wayside—

This desire tells a story. It tells a story of you, and tells you, through words and a language of its own, the shifts and places for change and growth.

My words today are slightly different—they are peace and freedom and light and movement and joy. Using the words of right now brings you closer to your desire, to yourself, to your light.

So that desire thing?

It’s a map to your soul. To your light. To your essence. Sometimes it’s a bit buried.

It’s okay to feel.

It’s okay to be you.

It’s okay to be where you are, right now.

XO.

Desire Map is a program and a book by Danielle LaPorte that’s been one of the many tools and processes instrumental in shifting my life over the past year. It’s one of many that I’ve come back to, time and time again, as I learn to listen to my soul. The new collection comes out tomorrow, December 3, along with a day planner, a workbook, and a journal. Also: I happen to know the designer who helped bring this collection to life, and I’m madly in love with him. Enjoy.

What’s in the trunk? A mysterious tunnel inside the house… and some of the things I’m so grateful for.

Posted on November 27, 2013November 27, 2013 by Sarah K Peck

What’s in the trunk?

My dad just moved to Colorado and I’m here for the week, visiting for the first time. The cold, snowy mountains outside of Denver are filled with deer, elk, and other creatures that wander up to the backyard and say hello. (There’s also a new dog in the family that’s a giant 1-year old puppy. I really mean giant. But I digress).

As they were showing me the house, we stopped and took a look at this trunk standing up against a wall in one of the bedrooms. My stepmom cracked up when she showed it to me–“Guess what’s in it!?”

When you open in up, the trunk is completely empty. So… what goes inside?

It turns out when you look at the bottom there’s just a hole in the floor. Or rather, it’s a verified secret chamber that they added to the house.

What the heck?

When they moved in, in addition to knocking walls and windows down and building new counters and cabinets (she’s an interior designer; she can’t help it)–she knocked a hole in the floor to create a laundry chute. When they lift the trunk lid, they drop laundry down to the room below. Rather than leave an unsightly hole, she put this trunk over the top of it.

But that’s not the best part: take a look at what’s stenciled across the entire outside of the trunk.

On the outside, she wrote all of the things she was thankful for. (You’ll see my name on there!) Every time she does laundry, she gets to use a small piece of furniture that reminds her just how much she has to be thankful for.

How cool is that?

It’s that time of year: what are you thankful for?

Gratitude is a practice and can take hundreds of different forms. You’re probably inundated with thoughts of kindness–and that’s one of the reasons this is one of my favorite times of the year. From the breath we take to closing our eyes and appreciating the simple gift of being alive–there is so much to be grateful for. We can practice gratitude in our appreciation of the small things, by adding little rituals into our lives, and by reaching out and telling someone that you’re thankful for them. (You can learn several of these inspiring tools in our upcoming Grace + Gratitude workshop, beginning December 1).

Through these little acts, we can literally reprogram our brains. Over time, they have a huge effect.

I am thankful.

I am thankful for courage, of which the latin root (cor–) doesn’t mean bravery, but rather it comes from the latin word for heart. As Brene Brown writes, courage originally meant “to speak one’s mind by telling all one’s heart.” Courage is the act of gratitude: of speaking your heart, and letting your voice be heard.

I am grateful for my imperfections, and the grace to be able to acknowledge them each time I goof up. I am grateful for mistakes, because they mean that we’re living and moving.

I am grateful for time, and for the present. For this delicious moment. For the wonder of being here at all. (It’s really crazy if you start to think about it.)

I am grateful for experience, because it is the best teacher, even if it’s mighty uncomfortable.

I am grateful for the internet, for connecting online, for meeting so many friends who can see me more fully through my writing than I’m sometimes able to explain in person.

I am grateful for my family, a rambunctious and boisterous bunch who likes to sit on top of each other, no matter how big the house. We’ll just pile on top of each other like a football stack, dogs and cats and kids and blankets and everything.

Every day, I’m thankful for the gift of life and for living. I am thankful for breathing, which is made particularly poignant when I’ve experienced losing my breath.

I am thankful for swimming, dancing, moving, and singing.

I’m thankful for my hands, because hands are so weird and wonderful and downright cool in their digits and bends and abilities to do what we command them to do so tirelessly.

I am grateful to teach and I am thankful for all of the studying I get to be a part of in order to become a better teacher.

I am grateful for you, reading this, building a community online, being a part of this space. I cherish you and I hear from so many of you. Through you, I’ve learned how important writing is, and how telling stories—my job in this world, in this time—is for showing various ways of thinking and being and becoming and doing. For that, I’m truly humbled and grateful.

There’s so much I’m thankful for this season.

What are you thankful for this season?

And if you have a gratitude post, link it up in the comments and I’ll read it this holiday–I love reading about what you’re doing!

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Looking for a place of love and kindness? Join our upcoming Grace & Gratitude micro-workshop, a two-week journey to cultivate grace and gratitude in your life. Two weeks of daily stories and exercises designed to bring light, love, and joy into your life–one photograph, project, and quote at a time. Sign up here (or give as a gift this holiday). We begin December 1.

The masks we wear–how we hide who we are.

Posted on November 24, 2013November 25, 2013 by Sarah K Peck

We all wear masks from time to time: in our words, our habits, and our practices. We have an arsenal of crutches and shortcuts that slowly but surely hide who we are. They are things that prop us up and help us hide. We hide from our feelings and our desires. We hide from who we might become.

We drink coffee as a mask for how tired we are, or to replace what is really a lack of motivation for a certain project we’re involved in.

It masks how tired you are of caring for a newborn infant, or how miserable your boss’s cutting remarks make you.

The alcohol that you drink at night masks the fear and the stress feel from not having control during your day. Perhaps it helps to cover up the loneliness of your cubicle or help you get through another night.

We project false smiles of protection to hide our fears, to be desirable. We wear high heels and new clothes and carry certain bags and advertisements to show a sense of self, a projection, an idea. We use extroversion to be well liked. We chase busy to mask our fear of not leaving an impact.

We cover a lot of things up. Scars we carry, stories we hold, work we’re afraid of doing.

Our selves, deep inside.

It’s not always bad to have a mask…

It’s not terrible to have masks, but they can’t be our only way of dealing with the world. If we spend the entire time warding off the world and hiding from ourselves, we’ll miss the best parts. By hiding from the world, we hide ourselves, and we lose a piece of our souls.

Many of us have lost touch with ourselves, our souls, with the tender, tired, scared part of itself.

Here’s the catch…

Releasing a mask requires feeling. It requires having a real, honest, scary, less-than-desirable feeling. Letting go of your mask means you might need to say,

By golly, I’m tired.

And no, I don’t want to do this.

Or, I’m scared. I’m scared of messing up. I’m scared of doing a bad job. I’m worried that I won’t be liked. I’m worried that I might try and I won’t be good at it.

Letting the barrier down requires Guts. Honesty. Softness.

Looking at the impulse before we rush to snatch a cover, and breathing in recognition:

Your feelings are clues.

These feelings inside? They aren’t enemies. They are clues. Feelings are way points in an uncertain world, direction markers that guide us back into the brilliance of ourselves, if we’ll allow it. The trouble is it can be uncomfortable and downright painful. Feelings you haven’t had in years might surface to remind you of areas of internal work you still have to do.

And your masks were protection, once.

The masks aren’t all bad. Sometimes pulling down the mask and showing your face requires gentleness and slowness. Your mask might have served you at some point. A therapist in my yoga training reminded me that these coping mechanisms shouldn’t always be disarmed quickly. Children of abuse who learned how to harden and deaden their senses built masks in order to survive those times. These mechanisms and masks were useful–they helped you survive. They got you here. They protected. Unlocking them too quickly without new ways of being can also be damaging.

But at some point, perhaps you might notice you’re still wearing one.

What masks are you wearing?

What masks do you carry?

What do you hide?

Can you lower it for a bit?

With love,

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Winter workshop: cultivating gratitude, opening to grace. Begins December 1. Join us.

Posted on November 22, 2013November 22, 2013 by Sarah K Peck

Crack.

That moment, when your heart swells in open with thanks.

When a stranger sends you a smile and a whisper.

The unexpected brush of a hand against yours.

The warmth of the subway air after a walk through frozen city streets. A free coffee from the barista. When a taxi driver waves you forward and lets you ride for free. Waking up a few minutes before your alarm and snuggling under the covers for those unexpected moments while you watch the sun rise. Peeling back the curtains. Holding the door for an eighty-year old woman. Letting someone else take the elevator first. Pausing.

What does it mean to cultivate gratitude?

Realizing that the world around us is far larger than the space of our thoughts. Noticing how much there is to be thankful for. Finding thanks even within the darkest, hardest times. Holding yourself and your community to the highest integrity. Bringing warm soup to strangers. Baking bread for the homeless. Giving your birthday away. Being gentle with yourself.

What does it mean to open to grace?

Grace and gratitude are paramount to building a soft heart, an open mind, and a willing vulnerability.

In the midst of a hard world and in between the demands of your daily life, it can be easy to forget. To forget how important it is to remember the bigger picture. What it’s all about. Why you’re here. What we’re really doing.

It’s a whisper inside of your soul, a reminder.

Join the new digital course: bring more Grace + Gratitude into your life.

This winter, during the holiday season, we’re opening a two-week micro workshop focused on cultivating gratitude and opening to grace.

It begins December 1.

Two weeks of joy-delivered bundles and stunning exercises (with pages for your own reflection) delivered to your mailbox.

A breath of fresh air.

A sigh of thanks, of gratitude for being here. Being you. Right now. Where you are. Exactly as you are.

PS: It’s a micro-course. Only 2 weeks. And only $75. And only $100 if you buy want two spots. My winter gift.

Read all about the program here (or look up in the menu bar–it’s got a whole page). Sign up here.

You’ll get to learn specific exercises and tools that some of my favorite people use to cultivate a sense of wonder, awe, and joy within their every day lives.

Give yourself the gift of practicing joy. Of building gratitude.Of stepping into small reasons to remember what the holidays are really all about.

What it’s really all about.

And in the spirit of gratitude: buy one, give one.

In the spirit of gratitude, you can sign up for the workshop for yourself, or you can buy one for you and gift one to a friend. If you want to buy an extra spot as a gift forward anonymously, write “GIFT SPACE” in the email line and I’ll save the spots for people who might be struggling this winter but would love to take the course.

Looking forward to sharing this with you.

With gratitude and thanks for you, exactly as you are.

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