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This song from Ze Frank has been in my head lately and it makes me feel so much better, no matter what I’m going through. And it’s not because Ze is so smart or clever. Swear.

Now is as good a time as any to confess that I had a mad crush on Ze Frank for at least three or four years. I’m not even kidding. It was so bad, I could hardly stop myself from being his internet stalker. I’d watch his show faithfully, then craft witty little emails and run around the house pumping my fist in the air like Rocky when he would inevitably just have to answer because I’d sent him some link that was just so him or that good. I’m sure he had no idea who I was or realized that he was replying to the same person, but ludicrous as it was, whenever he replied I could barely contain my excitement. Even though I knew I was just another crazy housewife in his inbox.

Last fall I became slightly IRATE when i read his updated wikipedia page and realized he had been married since 2003. Two thousand and three, people. That was THREE YEARS before he even created the show or I even knew he existed. All that wasted longing. For nothing. I was shocked at how annoyed I was even though it was pretty clear (even in my state of deranged admiration) the whole thing was a total joke.

Fear is like this for me in reverse. It’s this frenzy I whip myself into. I get all into it. The bad news, the inevitable disaster. And then the day comes and the other shoe drops and I find out that none of it was true. No catastrophe ensued. Nothing was nearly as bad as I had imagined. My fear was just a fantasy, a really bad dream designed to keep me going in some unproductive direction. With no consequence. No reality. Something to distract me, to keep me entertained so I don’t have to engage in the rest of my life.

Of course, not all fears are like this. Sometimes you’re worried you’re getting sick and then, you get sick. Sometimes you’re worried your marriage is over and then, it’s actually true. But even then, when the really, really bad stuff hits, the truth is not nearly as horrific as the sideshow in your head. Almost always, what your mind can generate is far worse then the actual moment. Which is quite bearable after all. Who knew?

It’s not like me to take such a light-hearted approach, but I’m trying it on for a while. So far, so good. And I’m singing the songs that I sing when I’m scared of something and that helps, too. How about you? What do you do when the game show of your mind is out of control? How do you tame your fear and get yourself back to this very moment? I’d love to hear your wisdom in the comments below.

And thank you, thank you for being happy with me come hell or highwater yesterday and for letting me sing to you the day before. All this is making me very, very happy.

manzanita, oregon.

1. Find one song that gets you really good and play it on repeat.

2. Sit close to someone with a big round belly and let your head rest on his or her shoulder.

3. Make your bed beautiful.

4. Cry if you want to.

5. Grab a pretty flower from your neighbor’s yard and put it in your hair.

6. Take a shower and wash your hair. Then do it again in two more days.

7. Walk to the market and buy one pint of raspberries, then eat them quietly in your living room when you are all by yourself.

8. Imagine yourself as a tiny newborn baby being held by arms of complete and total love for how dear and perfect you are, just as you are right now.

9. Call a new friend who has walked the path you are right now. Listen to how she laughs and how okay she is right now and know it is true for you, too.

10. Play whatever game your kids are playing, badly and without pride.

11. Ask a small child to help you paint your toenails.

12. Buy one bar of lovely dark chocolate and eat one tiny square a day like it is the secret to life and liberty.

13. Wear a dress. Show your lovely legs. Appreciate your soft, round middle. Do not be shy about the fact that you have cleavage.

14. Call an old friend who doesn’t spare you the delight or embarrassment of all the silly, stupid, ridiculous things you say.

15. Stop apologizing.

16. Stop explaining.

17. Say “I don’t blame you. I understand where you are coming from” and mean it.

18. Remember all the times you never thought you’d make it this far.

19. Sing a song to someone you love. Or someone who doesn’t believe in love yet. Either one will do.

20. Stop being offended when service men or construction workers come on to you. Enjoy the fact that you still got it going on and nod your humble thanks.

21. Get a mantra, like “All will be well” or “I have everything I need” or “Everything is unfolding exactly as it should” and doodle it, draw it, paint it, say it or share it until you know it’s true.

22. Want what you want just because you want it.

23. Mop the kitchen floor.

24. Decide patience is a virtue.

25. Ask for help when you need it and then let the love all the way in when you get it.

Deep, dark waters over here, but still so, so much to keep me connected and true…even when times are super tough. Wanna add to the list? What makes you happy no matter what? Let’s make a list we just can’t help but love.

P.S. Slots still open in mondo beyondo. You’re not too late if you still want in. I’d be happy to have you.

me and my dear jen who always draws out my best young self

I’m in this funny stage of life where I’m rolling back time and going back to the way things were when I was much younger. Silly things, but they are offering me an odd comfort and a way forward.

I gave up highlighting my hair and started to covering my grays with a semi-permanent color much closer to my darker locks of girlhood.

I rearranged my room and threw out so much stuff that I wake up thinking I’m 25 again, living in the one room studio in Coral Gables when all I had was books and paints.

I’m eyeing junk on the side of the road that could be painted, recovered or restored and throwing the Pottery Barn catalogs directly in the trash without cracking the cover.

I’m making little bouquets of nothing out of anyone’s yard and putting them in little jars like I did when I was seven.

I’m spending much less time on the phone and more time being quiet, like my hermit years in my twenties where I didn’t own a radio, let alone a TV.

I’m becoming the girl I used to be, the one I’m meant to become.

This is part of growing older I think. Three or four years ago a good friend told me the best thing that ever happened to her was turning forty. “I decided I didn’t want to take crap anymore. I was more honest with myself and everyone around me. I figured life was too short.” I remember looking at her with her white blonde dreadlocks in her mid-fifties and wild kind of beauty and wondering if it would happen to me.

It did.

I hope though, that the changes I’m experiencing have less to do with not wanting to “take crap” but more to do with becoming who I was always meant to be. I know everyone has different theories on destiny, but I believe strongly that we are here for a purpose and that when we finally become awake enough to realize we are on that path and pursuing it, fears and all, that the sun shines for a reason. Look at the stars, Chris Martin, sings, Look how they shine for you.

This is how we enter the kingdom, I think. We become young again. We go back to where we started from, only this time with our hearts and minds and souls at peace with all the tiny moments that pull us into the future. We understand everything is unfolding exactly as it should and so we walk boldly, even when we are afraid. Even when it seems our fate is not in our hands.

I’m sending you waves of kindness here this morning. Send me your cell number on email and I’ll send you a cell phone serenade on your voicemail, if you need some tangible reminder you are loved. jen.lemen@gmail.com

Update: The cell phone serenade was so much fun today and as of 9:30 EST, I’m closing up shop on singing for this round. Thanks to those of you who took me up on it! I sang 15 serenades today and can’t believe how happy it made me to make those calls. Let’s do it again soon.

On our first day in the far west mountain region of Nepal, the plan was to shoot in the villages, documenting a mothers’ circle high up in the hills. I don’t know why, but I didn’t do the math that this would mean we would need to actually hike up into the mountains in order to reach our location. Stephanie and I have a colorful story of me huffing and puffing up a mountain in Rwanda while our respective hosts took turns panicking that someone would have to carry me down if my out-of-shape heart gave out on the way up. I so wanted this outing to be a new chapter in our story, so I put on my very best tough girl personae from the first second I stepped out of the SUV.

All this was for naught because Mukesh, our guide, immediately sized me up and decided I might be better off if he carried my bag for me. One look at the vertical path in front of us and I quickly caved, doing my best to follow in his footsteps straight up the hill, without complaint or drama. I was thrilled to find that while it wasn’t easy climbing, I could actually do it and we had a fantastic shoot in this lovely little mountain house packed full with women and babies.

On the way down, Mukesh offered to carry my gear again, but this time I was sure I could do it on my own. It’s downhill, I said, I think it will be easier.

Going back down, he told me, is actually more difficult, because you really need to keep your center of balance, and I think this bag could throw you off. Remembering how steep and intricate the steps had been on the way up, I agreed, albeit somewhat humbled by how tricky even the simplest things can be for me, when I can also be so good at things that are so complicated and hard.

The way back down was actually a little bit scary. I’ve been able to shake my fear of heights in the last year, but not my fear of falling and I couldn’t shake the sense that one false step and I’d be the cause of the next landslide as I tumbled down the remainder of the path.

Mukesh could sense my fear without even looking at me. Keep your body loose, he called behind me. Let yourself be free. Don’t be too careful. Being tense won’t help. I took his advice and tried to copy his easy way down, arms swinging from side to side like we were rambling down a ramp instead of the sheer side of a mountain. He was right. It was easier that way–to not worry too much about my steps, to pick my path with confidence and let myself enjoy actually getting it right, even when I started out sure disaster was my final destination.

the view on the way down

I came home and immediately wished for more practice going up and down mountains. There’s a specific kind of learning that happens when your body goes through the motions on something that you have to master in a more metaphorical or metaphysical way. I’m always hesitant about my next steps in my life; I can’t seem to let go of my worry that I won’t know the way when the terrain is unfamiliar or difficult. But just those little words–Let yourself be free. Don’t be too careful. There’s no need to carry anything heavy.…these words can stay with me for a long, long time. I can trust that the earth is supporting me with each step, that I can choose with confidence, believing that a certain kind of knowing shows up when we’re bold, when we declare we’re ready to trust the balance that comes when we commit to the unfolding path.

How are you this afternoon, friends? Are you trying to find your footing on a steep climb to somewhere you’ve never been before? Are you on your way down, trying to find your balance? Whatever your direction, I hope you know today that you’re doing better than you think, and that you’re closer than you can imagine to solid ground.

(Lakeside, Pokhara, Nepal)

A year ago this month, my friend Andrea and I co-founded Mondo Beyondo, an online class about taking your dreams seriously and being willing to receive unexpected help (and sometimes miracles) along the way. We’ve had 2000 people take the class so far. You can read more about it here and here.

Even after going through the class five times myself, I still can’t help but continue to make Mondo Beyondo lists. I love writing them now (they used to feel scary) because I know that more than a list I make, they are often little intuitive snapshots into what my future is meant to be. Here’s the latest list I made on the plane coming home from Nepal.

New Mondo Beyondo List
Make a marigold necklace like this one
Learn how to string red chilis that can be hung and dried from a second story window
Learn how to rock climb
Get into good hiking shape so I can be one of those old ladies I see in the airports who look limber and alive and have fire in their eyes
Drive/own a car that is very gratifying/fun to drive* (shocking to me, after i wrote it, since i’m very much a shun-the-car, walk everywhere girl)
Own and wear beautiful dresses that are handmade, detailed and lovely
Take a thousand soulful portraits

Be in really excellent shape (not thin, just strong and flexible)
Cook and shop for healthy meals that become feasts
Live in a cozy, welcoming freshly painted house with a garden and a gardener
Have long, deep and meaningful conversations with people I love
Take a relaxing trip with my family
Learn how to play the piano
Sing a beautiful song on a stage that makes people cry
Make a simple but exquisite short film
Develop a piece of land in Rwanda that is a source of deep healing and love
Clarity, depth and the ability to articulate my thoughts and ideas
Be really, really deeply healthy in every way
Have a connecting, crying, healing talk with someone who’s important to me (it’s already happened, unbelievably so)
Spend a month in Nepal someday
Make peace with who I am and who I’m meant to be in the world
Fiscal health and well-being with sound and sane practices
Start a venture capital enterprise that cashes out big and produces a serious (and delightful) infusion of cash for my various projects w/ friends around the world

One of the things I love about Mondo Beyondo is that it takes these simple little lists we write and uses them to help us find a way in to deeper trust, openness, courage and tenderness. We hardly think our dreams are anything–they’re either too silly or too grand for our every day tastes. But when we take just a minute to hold them, to regard them with kindness and a certain kind of confidence, we find that they are gateways that can help us uncover a joy and ease and courage we were always meant for.

Stephanie Roberts, in her element, watching her dreams come true

If you’ve never taken the class, we’re starting up another session on August 30th. (Registration open now). If you’re alumni, you might be excited to note we have new interviews this term, a new way to do your list and other fun extras we’ve never offered before. What’s your dream? Do you have one? Do you want to uncover one? Will you come dream with me this fall? I’d love to have you.

I have this poem from Rumi going through my head. Do you know it?

The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
Don’t go back to sleep.
You must ask for what you really want.
Don’t go back to sleep.
People are going back and forth across the doorsill
where the two worlds touch.
The door is round and open.
Don’t go back to sleep.

I’ve been hearing it in my head like a warning, a call to pay attention, to not numb out just because I’m scared or have no idea how to deal what’s right before me.

Years ago, I spent at least three or four months listening to the story of Baba Yaga as told by Clarissa Pinkola Estes on repeat. It’s the one where the girl is sent by her wicked stepmother and sisters on an impossible errand to get fire from Baba Yaga–the most feared witch in their village. Over and over again, Baba Yaga gives the girl ridiculous requirements to fulfill before she’ll grant her her wish for the torch to be lit. And over and over again the girl is miraculously able to do what’s asked, but only with the help of Vasilisa, a little handmade doll her mother gave her that she keeps in her pocket.

In the end, Baba Yaga decides to give up the charade and give the girl the fire, but not because she jumped through all the hoops correctly. She does so because the girl gives this final answer when Baba Yaga asks her why she should give her what she wants:

Because I asked, the girl says.

To that, Baba Yaga has nothing to say except, You’re lucky, kid, because that’s the right answer.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve always been suspicious of the idea that a simple ask is a good enough reason. I prefer to try to be good enough or to make sense or to add up to someone else’s criteria. And if that doesn’t work, I’m all signed up for torture and endless existential angst. Because the ‘because I asked’ argument always seems like the shakiest argument of all.

I’m learning though that when I’m awake–completely and fully awake–that there’s no other answer. That there’s no deserving and no striving and no criteria that can make you worthy. There’s just who you are and what you need and what you choose to ask for, just because.

I hope you are feeling courage for staying wide awake this morning. I’m on a long walk, passing by doors, waiting for the doorsill where the two doors touch and door is round and open. I hope you’ll keep me awake for awhile, so I don’t fall back asleep.

1. Discovering our first host lived in a lovely house, with an inspiring view, with great guest bed/coverlet in my favorite color of green. Bliss.

2. Finding notes from the Lovebombers all week long, tucked in my backpack here and there

3. Eating momo’s in a little back alley restaurant with two people newly in love (you know who you are–wink)

4. Having a serious “I am enough” moment late in the night as I was watching Hopeful World (a new venture I’ve been musing on for the last 18 months) fall into place right before my eyes

5. A late night talk about love and balance in the back of a car on the way to a shimmery party with a beautiful and wise Indian friend and soulsister (see faces above, the morning we left)

6. Sitting at the foot of a tiny temple in the forest listening to Subhash tell me about his childhood dreams

7. Waking up to a perfect view of the Himalayas, previously covered by clouds the day before

8. Drinking chai from the rooftop

9. Hours in the car winding up high above the clouds on our way to remote mountain villages

10. Watching a beautiful young woman nurse her newborn baby 20 minutes after delivery. She went home in an ox drawn cart two hours later.

11. Having a delirious laugh with Stephanie over 120+ degree heat in our hotel room

12. Sweating so much that I now have skin as soft as a baby’s butt

13. Realizing that Nepal was a good respite, with nothing so tough to send me over the edge emotionally (being in Uganda for three weeks in April was good bootcamp)

14. Taking copious notes as my brain couldn’t stop spinning on ideas and thoughts bringing everything into serious synthesis

15. Talking Hollywood gossip with two very fun Nepali public health workers on a bumpy ride out of the plains

16. Drinking Nepali beer and singing songs to each other (same sweet Nepali boys) to celebrate Stephanie’s birthday

17. Having Subhash get my iphone unlocked for 3 dollars so i can use it in any country anywhere in the world

18. Learning FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME how to use my f stop (thank you Tracey Clark) and shooting on manual by the end of the trip (2000 photographs, 40GB in RAW)

19. Keeping a flight risk from rushing the cockpit (with five other people) for the last forty-five minutes of a very tense flight (he was arrested on landing, no fun); again, after Uganda, piece of cake.

20. Feeling really integrated and at peace, even with sad, sad goodbyes…knowing I’ll be back.

Photos to come…

I had a quiet talk today with my good friend (and summer babysitter) Jodi about how much things have changed over the last few years with my art–how things started so simple and small and how over time everything has taken on a life of its own.

“There’s a lot going on for sure,” she said. “But you seem calm. You’re not stressed. You’re just taking it all as it comes.”

I laughed and thought to myself how much my good friend (and babysitter from last summer) Rachael would have said the exact opposite just one year ago. But things change. You take baby steps in this direction or that one and then suddenly all those baby steps add up and you land in a new place entirely with a completely different set of feelings and thoughts about everything that has happened before.

“I think I’m learning,” I told Jodi, “that life is like a spiral staircase, that you keep winding around and around arriving at the same point but with a different perspective. Sometimes it’s stormy and sometimes it’s calm, but either way it doesn’t last forever. You have to keep going and not be devastated when the storms come and also not be too high when everything’s going great, because that changes, too.”

This will not be earth shattering news to most of you (especially those of you living in the middle of America where this concept is known as good common sense) but for me it’s been hard won.

Everything changes. And then changes again. I’m finally starting to think that’s what makes everything so good.

+++++++++++++

Well, I’m home after three whirlwind weeks of travel with just the littlest respite between trips two and three. I feel calm and grateful and humbled and overwhelmed in the very best way. So much has changed in such a short period of time, I feel like a brand new girl. But that’s to be expected, I suppose.
Here’s what I look like right now. Feel free to send me your screen shot of you, or leave a link in the comments below. It’s good to be back.

I’ve been away with friends this weekend in Oregon, letting my heart mend a little. There’s a certain way that good friends can function as mirrors when you feel a little muddled. They reflect back your truth–the ways you are weak, strong, stubborn or kind–so you can settle into your skin and be more true to the ones you love and yourself. I am deeply grateful for this circle these days especially and for the promise that our tribe is just at the beginning of a long history together.

I feel strengthened by these days and buoyed by the freedom to reveal how tender I really am, and how strong.

I’m on my way to Nepal today for Picture Hope with my good friend and partner-in-crime Stephanie Roberts. This in some ways will be our most remote trip–no computers this time, so I’ll be off the grid. I hope your days in the meantime are full of promise.

Come play with me over at PBS Supersisters! For someone who is always in some state of angst, worrying about her parenting, it feels really, really good to say what I know.