Where's My Montage?

Like so many of us, I’ve been trying to write a novel for, oh, thirteen years now. 

My first attempt was so long ago that the technology needed to access that draft no longer exists.

A few weeks ago, I took a class on plotting your novel, because I have a terrible habit of writing ten pages of some story that occurs to me and then forgetting about it completely. 

It’s not even giving up - giving up implies some form of active plan. Instead it just vanishes from my mind, like I’m a goldfish with a laptop. 

Having a plan in this area of my life might serve me well, even if plans do very little for me otherwise. So I show up to the class with my brand new Harry Potter moleskine and diligently take pages of notes.

When the instructor started talking about the crisis point that leads into the third act of a novel, I felt a deep sense of relief unwinding through my being.

I thought, “I’m not failing at life, I’m just at my crisis point.”

Someone please print that on a t-shirt, and make it available in pink.

I’m not sure why this was such a revelation, but I have an Instagram account and so maybe can be forgiven for thinking that life needs to be an endless upward cycle of victory.

Sure, my crisis point has lasted about a year - approximately 51 weeks longer than the crisis point in most movies (or maybe life isn’t served up in montage form, though it should be) - and instead of reaching a resolution, it seems to be extending itself via world circumstances and socially-isolated lockdown for the foreseeable future because apparently our lives have turned into a dystopian novel. (I never realized those were supposed to be instructional.) 

I’m now realizing that maybe I was in preparation for this moment. Maybe that’s all my crisis was about. I’m not sure why preparation had to be “Learn the lessons early” rather than “enjoy your last months outside with friends” but the universe works in mysterious ways. 

As for my novel, I’m not forcing anything right now. I’m going to let myself write for fun, write to entertain myself. Write something I would like to read, rather than something that feels Important. Because we are not required to write King Lear right now, plague or no plague.

How To Thrive In Social Isolation

I’ve been reading up on the coronavirus and COVID-19 and it seems like these extreme-feeling social isolation measures are absolutely the best thing we can do to support each other right now.

Luckily, I’ve spent the last year and a half preparing for this exact moment in history.

Weirdly extreme social isolation: check!

Constant grinding fear about money / resources: check!

Incessant Netflix streaming: check!

Since “the universe was preparing me to be of service in this moment” is a much better thought than “Amber does life wrong,” I’m going with Being Prepared By The Universe. Always go with the thought that feels better rather than the thought that feels worse.

So How Do We Thrive In Unprecedented Times?

Give yourself a minute. You don’t need to immediately learn Danish or to play the medieval lute. Let yourself rest. Let yourself process. Let yourself cry. Let yourself grieve. Let yourself watch Netflix for hours. A lot of “Shakespeare wrote King Lear during the epidemic!” has been going around the internet lately, to which I say: If you diving into your novel or screenplay feels good, fan-fucking-tastic. Write things for us to read. If not, please allow me to remind you that you aren’t responsible for writing King Lear right now.

Don’t judge yourself for having feelings. You’re allowed to have feelings! You’re allowed to cry! Feel them as sensations in your body without thinking about what the feeling means. Breathe with them. Move with them. Yell them into a pillow. Shake them out.

If panic or fear sets in, soothe yourself. Our brains have been trained to panic our entire life. When you feel your thoughts careening around the hamster wheel of crazy, take a moment to soothe your nervous system.

• Breathe into your belly. As much air as you can hold, then let it all out. Repeat.

• Tap the top of your head and over your heart while saying or thinking “I have everything I need. I am safe. I am well.” Use whatever words feel the most supportive in the moment.

• Anchor yourself into the present moment. Look around at the room you’re in. What do you see? What color catches your eye? How does the air feel? What do you smell?

• Lie on the ground. The ground is a constant. It’s always there to hold and support you. Lying on the grass or putting your back up against a tree will reset your entire system. But if that’s not available, lying on your living room floor will also do the trick.

• Drop all your thoughts into your heart. Imagine all your thoughts and feelings funneling into your heart space. Your heart will dissolve anything you don’t need, and return anything you do need at a time when you can look at it more easily.

• Treat your feelings like a toddler. It just wants some attention. Ask it what it needs and how you can help. It may even give you some randomly profound message.

Let things change. We are living in unprecedented times. But we humans are incredibly adaptable. Let yourself pivot. Invite in the idea that you can thrive in this moment, whatever it looks like for you personally. That you can have more than enough (without hoarding toilet paper). That you can do great work. Love and be loved. Enjoy your life even in circumstances that look deeply limiting.

There are answers beneath the noise. Let yourself get quiet. Your inner wisdom / higher self / whatever-you-like-to-call-it wants you to tune in so it can help you out with whatever you need and want.

Own your power. You are stronger than you know. You are more innovative than you realize. You are more powerful than you ever imagined. Start tapping into that deep vein of SWEET BABY UNICORN, WE’VE GOT THIS.

Send your words in the direction of health and wellbeing. It’s easy to doubt the power of words, especially if you’ve ever repeated “I have a million dollars, I have a million dollars, I have a million dollars!” and were not immediately serenaded by the nearest leprechaun as he hands you bags of cash.

While your immediate experience isn’t under your control - that does seem to be what this time is about - the way you view it is 100% your choice. See what fresh perspective is available to you in this moment.

This morning, I got quiet for the first time in a 72-hour Netflix binge. Almost as soon as I let myself be still, I heard this: “I now accept any healing and cellular upgrades that are in the highest good of my physical, mental, emotional, and energetic bodies. I now radiate hope. I now radiate light. I now radiate love. I am peace. Thank you.” As I repeated those words, I felt them rearranging me on a deep level.

Let yourself rearrange on a deep level. It’s time. We got this.

Time to Slow

It’s blissfully quiet - no cars rumbling down the road, no planes blasting over head. The only sound is the kitties chewing their breakfast kibble.

It feels like the world needs a rest. I saw pictures of the Venice canals - the water was running clear, and the fish and the swans were returning. When the factories in China shut down, the air cleared for the first time in decades.

There’s something that feels very important about this time - a slowing down, a drastic shift in everyday life, something deeply supportive for us as a people and for the planet.

End Times

As of midnight tonight, a shelter in place order will be in effect for the San Francisco Bay Area. What does this mean?

It means that there’s no toilet paper or rice to be had across four counties. 

Our grandparents fought in a world war; I guess I can use less toilet paper.

Where I live in Sonoma County is technically exempt - or at least hasn’t made the order official yet - but never leaving the house is how I live my life, so I might as well keep doing that. Only now I get to call it “helping humanity.” 

You’re welcome, humans. 

In my adult life, I’ve lived through 9/11, the stock crash of ‘08, Hurricane Sandy on Staten Island, the election of Trump, and multiple Sonoma wildfires. Add that to so many personal life upheavals (breakups, miscarriage, death, severely uncertain finances) that I have a very “wait and see” attitude toward looming disaster. I’ve also learned recently that one of the signs of trauma is to become eerily calm when everyone around you is panicking. I do this. It’s a safe bet that the only time I’ll be able to successfully meditate is when the zombie apocalypse is upon us.

So from my state of eerie calm and “we’ll see”, the question on my mind is: at what point during the lockdown will it become socially acceptable to ask Twitter to moderate arguments? 

(Can he get mad at me because there isn’t enough butter in the cookies when he made the cookies but I wasn't in the kitchen to stop him from doing it wrong, Y/N.)

The other question is, how many pictures can I share of the cat before it gets obnoxious? 

Social distancing means helping the kitties with their Tinder profiles.

Why Quitting Is a Great Idea

I am terrible at quitting things. 

Actually, I’m amazing at quitting things. I’m just not great at continuing to quit things. I’ll quit sugar and then decide a week later that a salted chocolate chip cookie is a brilliant idea. (Because it is.) I’ll quit coffee and decide an hour later that the world needs me caffeinated. (Because it does.)

I’ve needed to quit channeling and energy healing for over a year.⠀

I love channeling. But all arrows have been pointing to STOP since last March - but I was in my NO CHANNELING IS MY THING denial phase for all of 2019.⠀

It IS my thing. Channeling will always be my thing. But doing the channeling and energy healing for other people was killing my health and my energy.⠀

So I quit. I quit doing the thing that drains me, the thing that closes off my life, rather than opens it up.⠀

Because I want to feel good. I want to have energy for things like writing books and having friends. I want to do all the things that make me happy, like going to dance class, exploring this beautiful state and world I’m lucky enough to live in, learning new things, smelling the goddamn rosemary.⠀

Quitting the thing you know you need to quit makes space for other things, things that feel better.⠀

Channeling can be just another tool in my arsenal, a bonus for people I work with - like, hey, Joan of Arc is here for you! - rather than the main event. Thank god.

I'm making life simple for awhile. I'm going to do sessions with writers ( because working with witchy authors to help them do the goddamn thing is my jam) and with sensitive humans (because helping people feel better is my joy) - and trust that it’s enough. If you want to schedule a session with me, I'd love to help.⠀

We're allowed to quit. To have a life that feels fun, that feels good, that doesn’t drain the very marrow of our soul - and we get to do that in any way we goddamn please.

Sometimes that means leaving something behind, even something you thought you would do or be or have or love forever.⠀

But it always, always opens the door for something better.

Like clinging to an octopus for no discernible reason.