I’m deep into my Manifest Like a Mofo group, and today we’re hitting on one of the hardest themes: taking responsibility for how you create your life.
When I read this in Conscious Loving (one of my bibles for life) by Gay and Kathlyn Hendricks, it floored me:
It’s simple to find out what you’re committed to—just look at the results you’re creating.
Gay elaborates on this in Conscious Living: He says that every time we’re faced with a choice, we can either take healthy responsibility or blame someone or something else. Each time we avoid responsibility, we claim victimhood.
Being a victim means we have no choice, we’re not in control, and we aren’t choosing our moments.
That we choose our reality is a very intense concept to step into if you haven’t been here before. It can bring up a lot of denial, fear, self-righteousness and anger.
I just began offering my Manifest Like a Mofo Workbook as a stand-alone product, and it didn’t feel right to me.
What feels better? Offering it for the same price, but pairing it with more intention and connection—therefore, everyone who has purchased it will also receive a 9-day course + guidance via email throughout the time they’re completing it.
The schedule is as follows:
Day 1: Happy Bubbles
Day 2: Clearing Out the Old
Day 3: Future Fears
Day 4: Change Your Story
Day 5: Make New Agreements
Day 6: Systems and Space
Day 7: Your Three Intentions
Day 8: Lift the Flashlight (Reflection Day)
Day 9: Alignment & Gratitude
I have some beautiful ladies (and men!) scheduled to start this deep work/play this upcoming Sunday (yes, two days from now). Want to join in?
Grab the Workbook and get ready to dive into the magic. Talk to you soon.
Update: Join-ins are now closed, but I’ll be hosting another round in May! Email me if you’re interested.
I went to an alarmingly deep, intense yoga class with my teacher two days ago. Everyone felt it; I know this because he said something he’s never said before toward the end, which was: “Seven more minutes of class, guys.” And everyone laughed. Because damn, we were all wondering.
In the beginning of class, he shared with us something that resonated with him via his teacher, Erich Schiffmann. It was:
In every moment, you’re either connecting to Source, or reiterating the ignorance of the ego.
It danced over my skin when he said it.
Throughout class, I thought about it. I thought about how much I was seeing the appearance of ego in my own life lately, and in particular my relationship.
I had been making everything about me. I pointed out to my partner that even the simplest thing he was saying—she’s really really smart, for example—was triggering me. Wasn’t I really smart, too? Yes. Do I want to crawl into a shame hole for even admitting to thinking this way? Yes.
I’ve been working on something behind-the-scenes for a few months now, and today, on the Spring Equinox, I’m excited to bring it to life.
I’ve been doing personal interviews with successful entrepreneurs and independents who are living all of themselves. Aligned with their truth, they are weaving magic in the universe, helping others, and coming alive, every day.
My specifications: I sought out people who are truly showing up and expressing their full, authentic selves—no matter how messy or shadowy—in the world.
Inspired by “The Way I Work and “How I Work” columns in Inc. and Lifehacker, the “How I Live All of Me” series will focus on play/purpose integration and insight into what it means to live fully and attract what we deeply desire in life, work and love.
I believe that feeling fully expressed in our body, spirit and soul is the secret to living our greatest life. And these entrepreneurs, writers, coaches, speakers, explorers, and leaders prove it—every day.
Sitting is so 2013.
I don’t actually think that. That is my reactionary statement to a Zen Buddhism class I attended, in which the instructor told me that yoga was not a great form of meditation. Not a great form (read: judgement). We were in a yoga studio (read: awareness).
Kathlyn Hendricks once told me: You start by whatever door you come in. For me, body movement is not a distraction. It’s a vehicle for me to move in more deeply.
It is my human form inquiring of its sinews, its marrow, its connective tissue. It is bone dry, finger licking, toe curling, knee high. It is the heart of the matter.
It is dynamism, shadow and light, action and receptivity. It is awakening in all its parts, in all its natures—its suckling wetness and its impulsive fire.
To me, yoga is the manner of devotion that most represents my duality, and so often—so blissfully more often, as I grow older—my vulnerable discovery as I step into it.
Coffee shops blaring reggae music. Coworking spaces where everyone wants to talk to you. Airplane seats with prying-eye passengers. Oh, the woes of not-so-starving writers who drink single-origin espresso.
But, for as well as it seems we treat ourselves—yoga breaks, tea breaks, two-hour lunch breaks (I learned recently that “break” meant that you were technically supposed to be doing work before and after. Mind, blown)—we can be pretty shitty to ourselves when it comes to commitments, resentment and real honesty. As solopreneurs or freelancers or whatever we want to call ourselves, we sometimes treat ourselves with way less regard than we’d ever let a partner.
It’s time we stop being our own worst-nightmare boyfriend. Here’s how to recognize and conquer those tendencies, and also be the travel-friendly, modern entrepreneur you want to be—you know, one who actually gets work done.
And not only work, but a writer’s work—a craft that requires dropping into a soft, still space inside of ourselves from which to pull gems or ashes or weeds, depending on the day, even when someone is yelling, “Almond-milk cappuccino on the bar!”
This is excerpted from my induction interview as a Professional Member of the Boulder Writers’ Workshop. I’ll be leading the free literary salon on March 9; come check it out if you live in Colorado.
What kinds of writing projects are you working on?
Amy Segreti: I’m constantly working on a myriad of things. When I was younger, I didn’t finish as much as I started; now, I’m getting better at doing my work and keeping commitments.
I work with clients on writing/editing projects, everything from press releases to book-length pieces, to private company branding and messaging. I started a print magazine of longform journalism on place, palate and pleasure in 2012, then moved it online. I also write a lot of narrative nonfiction and what I call “passion journalism”—I love writing in an inspired way, whether that’s about my life or about someone who is sharing their passion with me.
Whether I’m writing a news story, personal poetry, or a food and travel article, the purpose I strive for is to be the conduit for a genuine connection between my subject and readers.
In 2014, I set intentions.
I am going to love harder, but not need hard love. I am going to be fluid in a way that doesn’t belittle the beauty of discipline. I am going to understand better my boundaries, my edges, my swinging pendulums, my centers. I am going to let indulgence be just that, and take full pleasure in its fleeting nature. I am going to be patient and hold my fire, knowing that holding it doesn’t temper me, but strengthens me. I am going to know myself better, but not let that quest become an excuse for isolation and intolerance of others. I am going to get out of my own way and allow myself to be incandescent. I am going to let appreciation melt into reverence.
Happy New Year, everyone.
P.S. I have started a sweet, small site about the way I change my story in 2014. It’s called: Today I’m. Enjoy.
I was talking with my friend Sylvia about the cozy, gorgeous, one-bedroom apartment on Pearl Street that I want. It’s effectively double what I’ve ever paid for rent in my life.
I told her this, and then immediately remarked how if I didn’t get it, well, I had always wanted to travel during the Winter… which is true, and still mostly true. But I’ve been needing a nest so much more as I grow and expand. A mother home. A cocoon.
She replied that I need to believe I deserve it.
I’m back in Boulder now, riding my bicycle, doing yoga, sipping single-origin espresso, writing poetry, interviewing amazing people, sharing wine and dinner with girlfriends. It’s crisp but sunny, summer’s digestif.
It’s hearty, life here, and I can’t imagine tearing myself from it. In a traveling way, sure—in a permanent displacement way, no. Not yet. When I’m here, I can create a reflection of what I see around me—bliss, growth, magic—and store it inside myself as feeling. But, I find I have to keep coming back to recharge it.