Disney gets a lot of flack for its ‘princessification‘ of its heroines. Where Disney heros save the day with their bulging biceps and gallant swords, the heroines are often turned in to passive and pretty victims with tiny feet and angelic voices whose only mission is to sit back and be saved by the handsome prince.
But even with the glitter and woodland animals — in order for Disney heroines to reach their happy ever afters they all had to face uncomfortable challenges and find their strength to step in to who they really are.
Traditionally, fairytale heroines are powerful and passionate girls who confront the often mad world head-on to make things right. The heroine’s journey is about leaving the comfort of the status quo (which, in reality, is usually quite uncomfortable) to uncover the magical part of herself that lives beyond the everyday world. It requires braveness and kickassery. Not dwarves and princes.
And fairytales themselves are really templates for personal growth and development. About discovering who you are, what you really stand for and what you really want. About learning to rise to difficulty, hurt and pain as well as love, laughter and fun. About using fear in a constructive way. About uncovering your magic and talents to fill that hole in the world that only heroine-shaped you can fill.
A heroine is:
And, of course, adventurous….though not necessarily innately so. But when it becomes glaringly obvious that things need to change — she’s down.
Tell me who your favorite fairytale heroine is and why!
Things are gearing up for the Piscean Princess Extravaganza — aka…my birthday. Pretty much my favorite
day week month of the year — because I’m sort of in to me.
My tarot card for this year (covers the year from birthday to birthday) is The Magician — which is all about the ability to make. shit. happen. Although there is a ton (a tonne!) of work and growth happening behind the scenes here— I’ve been a little disappointed in the tangible growth for myself and my business in 2014 thus far. But as the 28th approaches — I can literally feel the momentum building. It’s a little scary, in the good way.
So understandably, the dominant emotion at the moment is complete overwhelm. Last week I described my brain as a ninja maniac (that likes to chase Squirrel!). My head is so filled with ideas and projects and things I want to accomplish — that it’s been almost impossible to capture them in any retrievable format and create a plan to follow through consistently. I’ve downloaded planners and workbooks and project management apps — but so far nothing fits. So I continue to live in the land of Post-It Notes. (Buuut, I think I may have found a ridiculously fun + magical solution to tame the overwhelm that will be completely customizable…hoping to be able to share that with you next week.)
Anyways…back to the Piscean Princess Extravaganza, shall we.
The personal work I’m doing for myself right now is requiring me to constantly step out of my comfort zone — basically to blow up the damn thing. Living outside my comfort zone basically means being a little scared and a little uncomfortable all the time — which is nothing like lying on the beach in Cabo drinking Mexican Monkeys. Nothing.
But some pretty amazing stuff happens when you let yourself be uncomfortable — and before you know it…that’s your new comfortable.
My birthday is usually quite fancy — but this year it’s completely outside the comfort zone and involves checking off several bucket list items. (I’m the Magician. I get shit done. My new creed.)
Here’s the PPE Plan so far:
1) Major hair make-over later this week — there will be pink involved
2) Solo road trip to a new city with very little agenda
3) Watching the sunrise on Santa Monica Beach (and then diving straight in to the ocean — no tippy toe-ing)
4) Having a cocktail at SUR lounge (of Real Housewives/ Vanderpump Rules fame — Hi, I’m Lisa and I’m addicted to the Real Housewives of Anywhere.)
(That’s my hipster beach-front pad…complete with silver hipster cruiser bike above. Renting a room in a lovely Aussie chap’s condo — if you know me, you know I’m pretty attached to my space…so this is a complete 180 from my usual travel MO)
Every item on this list scares the shit out of me.
That must mean I’m on the right track.
Disclaimer: This post was originally titled “F*ck Drugs” because I hate how drugs alter and steal beautiful souls. But, ultimately it’s not about the drugs — so I made a wee tweak…but I still wanted to say it. Because it’s worth saying. Let’s just call it the subtitle.
Phillip Seymour Hoffman’s death over the weekend deeply affected me. He is likely my favorite actor of all time — but it was more than that.
I have directly experienced the chaos and torture that drugs create and seen beautiful souls disappear — souls who didn’t understand how loved and loveable they were. And I’ve been in that place where the pain feels so excruciating that you would do just about anything not to be there anymore.
There are many reasons why PSH’s death feels like such a tragic and senseless loss. But I would probably boil it down to it always sucks to know that someone was in that much pain. Enough pain to prefer a soul crushing escape — that for the majority…there is no way back from.
It seems particularly sad that you can be outwardly brilliant, successful, celebrated and loved by millions (and now mourned by as many strangers) — and still not be able to celebrate and love yourself. Because ultimately, that’s where all pain comes from.
Pain is the difference between where you are and where you want to be.
And as humans — we most want to be seen, heard, accepted…feel like we belong, like we are worthy and like we matter. To feel OK inside our little pod. No small task — even when you have an Academy Award that is supposed to prove that you are all those things.
We came here to rock out with our socks out — unleashing our unique gifts and genius with glee on this crazy planet. The twist is that we all have smooshie, vulnerable, delicate tootsie pop centers. That tend to get dinged and chipped as we go about the business of life. Pieces of us get scuffed up or lost and we stop believing in our magic.
Nothing is broken — just temporarily separated. Askew, if you will.
It is painful to be separated from pieces of yourself. The longer and further away from your Self you are — the more homesick you get. Being homesick because you are away at summer camp for a month is miserable. Being homesick because you are separated from pieces of you — for years, or more often decades, at a time — is excruciating.
But Fuck Drugs? Really? Didn’t he choose to do drugs?
Drugs/addiction are just a symptom of homesicknesses — one of many coping- mechanisms-gone-wrong. Depression, fatigue, anxiety, eating disorders, abusive relationships, soul-sucking jobs, emptiness/ apathy/ boredom etc are other flavors of homesickness. A completely whole person — with their tootsie pop center intact — could not choose any of these things for themselves.
When I heard the news yesterday, I just wished that there was a hug strong enough, or words kind enough to take the pain away … to let someone realize how magical they are, how worthy they are and how much they matter.
But there isn’t.
It’s an inside job.