Finding your tribe; a manifestation post.

I took a creative visualization course yesterday. I actually jumped out of bed, into the truck and drove to the other side of town for it. Which is HUGE for me, Ms. Excuses-not-to-leave-the house-ever. So the class was going–vision boards, meditation, all that good stuff and we came upon the subject of “Tribes.” Finding your tribe, having one. And the conversation really took off.

The idea of having a tribe isn’t “new” to me, I started exploring this about three years ago when working for a Branding Agency who was obsessed with this distinction and who were decidedly NOT my tribe. (But when I left, I took a few of them with me, who were)

My novel, “Childhood Friends” also deals with the topic in a returning home way and how the friends you grew up with, may no longer be your tribe today. The more you become your authentic self, the less you are willing to accept inauthentic people and things in. Even when it’s incredibly hard to see your life without them, but you know it’s for the best.

So, when I found out I was pregnant I had this real grounding moment. I didn’t’ want to deal with any bullshit. That string of bad boyfriends I’ve mentioned, all of that negative emotion, drama–although I was away from it–I knew it was still playing tennis somewhere in my heart, mind, body. Because if I’m not intentional in clearing something out, it lies dormant in there, waiting for the perfect moment to come up again with ugly names like; Shame, fear, self abuse, alcohol abuse, drunk texting etc.

SO, I very intentionally sat myself down and said-“I don’t want people who do not have my best interest at heart in my life. I don’t want fake people in my space, false smiles and attitudes, untrustworthy liars, bigots, backstabbers, people who talk behind my back–” I mean, I went on and on and on with these filters. I wanted to clear out the space in my gut for nothing but a positive, loving home for my son. Why I couldn’t have done that for myself years ago, I don’t know, but he was the catalyst. (I think, because I hadn’t yet convinced myself that I deserved better, but I KNEW that he did.)

Okay-people started dropping like FLIES.

FLIES. I mean, I thought I was in good with my job. They found out I was pregnant, I set that intention, BOOM–they dumped me. My best friend of 15 years, BOOM–out of here. People I had been battling working with on a creative level-BOOM, gone. And on and on like that. And I looked around like “WTF just happened?” I thought I had a good thing going. I had a great job, close knit friends, doing theater–and now ALL of these people are disappeared. I was so used to being popular. And my mentor really put it in perspective for me. She reminded me what I had asked for and let me know, ‘it’s not ALWAYS the people we think it is who don’t want the best for you. Just because you want the greatest life for them, doesn’t mean that feeling is returned. This is just what you asked for being manifested.’ 

Mind Blown. Seriously. And of course in hindsight–as I started thinking back to my interactions with ALL of these people–I realized how strained those relationships had been. There were red flags everywhere that I had ignored because I naturally assumed that we were all here for each other. And if I had listened to my GUT, I wouldn’t have been so surprised. Even, and maybe especially, with the person I was friends with for so long. I was so used to being loyal to others, I’d forgotten to be loyal to my own instincts.

I look at the people around me now, the friends still left, and I know they are truth tellers. They don’t bullshit me. Even when I BEG them too. They are here for me and my family and they value what I give them as a friend–which is everything I have. AND, I’ve had these brilliant, funny, adventurous NEW friends join my tribe (through my new vetting process) and they are what I started asking for. The people that are going to take me to the next level and the ones I’m taking with me, do-ers and dreamers, connected and conscious. And NOT berating me at their family gatherings to feel good about themselves–(which is another story for another time) My tribe has grown so strong and although the pain of losing those other folks WAS heartbreaking and palpable at the time–THANK YOU UNIVERSE, for showing me the truth.

Tribe Goals:

Honesty, hilarity, passion, action, doing things, dreaming BIG, secure, vulnerable, grown AF, nose to the grindstone NOT in the air, conscious, communicative!!!! (meet me where I meet you. Not send a messenger to avoid a conversation) supportive, cards on the table, family oriented or understanding, adventurous, pushes ME, ignited, on fire, living bravely, extraordinary way with people, kind, talented, wine drinker, experienced, a student of the world,comfortable with yourself, shows me something new, partakes in joys and sorrows., creative, not competitive, not in a comparison world, loyal.

This isn’t even like some far off list of people who don’t exist. This is a list of the close friends I have today and the outline for people I want to attract AND the standard at which I’m holding myself in relationships.

If you’re feeling weird about a relationship in your life, I would suggest reevaluating it. Sometimes the grass really is greener

LONG POST!

Who is in YOUR TRIBE?

Off making friends,

Beaufield

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A reflection of my 20s

So I noticed that yesterday exactly ten years ago–was one of the best weekends of my life. I was 21, living in Vegas, my friends were in town and I met the boy I was supposed to marry and be with for the rest of my life. A whirlwind long distance romance started all culminating into me moving across the country for him to beautiful Atlantic City where we lived happily ever after. 

OR, where all of my fear of settling down, irresponsible, young woman child insecurities, not divorced from the last “it boy” issues culminated into a heartbreak that would last for like five years. Hahahaha.

Does anyone remember their 20s? Assuming that you’re out of them. My 20s lasted for like 20 years and were over in a flash. I feel like I did my 20s all the way right but I just wanna go slap myself too. 

A total blur of travel, PARTYING, a revolving door of bad boyfriends, a swinging gate of apartments, fur coats, rock shows, surprise parties, eyeliner, jäger bombs, and bikinis. Glitter, black eyes, musicians. Pregnancy scares, black mold, bartending.  

For some I was a train wreck, for some I was a spirit animal.

 I compromised myself too many times for the wrong people, I did NOT understand valuing myself, and I WISH I had spent more time pushing my career forward than following my bleeding, fangirl heart looking for “a man”. But I was ALL heart. So I can’t imagine I would’ve  enjoyed doing anything other than what I was doing. Because I was never on anyone else’s life schedule or plan for me–and I do thank God for that. 

My life is so completely different now–I mean complete 180. For starters, I have shit to do. Real shit. Which puts in perspective all the times I thought I was so busy but had nothing to actually do. I also have goals now. I was always flying by the seat of ‘whatever happens happens’ NOW I realize (whoa) I can actually MAKE things happen. And having a baby and family to take care of really pushes me to carve out that Beau time to make sure I get things done. I’m always actively fighting becoming too “normal” hahaha. So I have to remember to GTFO and kick my ass to get things done. There is TONS of shit left unchecked on my bucket list that I Wanted to do before having a baby–but in a lot of ways I never would’ve done any of it without having a baby. NOW, my time has so much more meaning. 

 It’s hard for some people to accept my life has changed (including me, sometimes). No, I won’t be driving to Canada with you right this second, with a couple of five hr energies and a bottle of rum. BUT, I could drive with you safely in a month, with my baby, and have a drink once we get there. It’s all in the compromise. I’m ecstatic to be where I am today–because honestly, I can’t believe I made it out alive–and so grateful for the clarity that I’ve grown into.

I don’t think that comes with age, just whatever personal journey you’re on. My sister in law is ten years younger and decades smarter than me. There are people older than me with less life experience and zero soul searching notched into their belt–who don’t need what I need to feel whole. 

I needed road trips and heartbreaks and desert wind and mountain tops and New York City to BE. To feel the full experience of the depths of what life could be and in that moment, is. 

I would go crazy too buttoned up, too domesticated. 

Now I need road trips, goals checked, vacations, good friends, yoga, writing, happy family, to BE. 

My 20s were exactly what I needed to get to exactly where I am, where I want to be, and beyond. The lessons I learned about who and how to love, self respect, friendship, standing for something, how work ethic and responsibility WONT KILL YOU, how to drive a stick, how to travel alone, how to survive a riptide, how to get out of an abuse cycle, how to live alone, how to get down a mountain at closing time after pissing yourself, how to fake inhale, how to love yourself–they aren’t going anywhere.

 I’m totally still learning everyday, but these things–I got them down. And I’m thanking myself for that. 

What were your 20s like? What do you need to ‘Be.’

Off being 31 AF, 

Beaufield

You can never be old and wise if you were never young and stupid. 

In the Present

I’ve dealt with racism, my “estranged” grandmothers passing AND childhood emotional bs-this week.

And honestly–

it’s the LAST thing I want to talk about.

I had it all planned out.

“THIS IS GOING TO MAKE A GREAT BLOG!”

I thought of all the insight I’d share and all the feelings I felt hoping to reach someone and relate to them on a very raw, human level-as I always try to. Help someone out in a time where they may need my words. Or have someone reach out to me in the same way–taking their experience into my space.

But I don’t want to do that. I feel like I’ve dealt with those feelings, I’ve discussed them with myself time and time again and I am just ready to live in the present. Accept the past for everything it’s been for me, the future laid out for me to create something extraordinary, and the present to be felt, confronted and used.

A long kiss on my babys soft face.

A song I rediscover.

A hair curl.

I  can say bringing your child to an awkward function makes it decidedly LESS awkward.

It’s NEVER too late to love.

It’s NEVER too late to understand (if you’re open to it)

And it’s NEVER to0 late to forgive.

But, it can be too late to say what you’ve been thinking. To have a conversation with someone who may not be here tomorrow. Or you-may not be here tomorrow.

People say that as cliche, but what can be more true than mortality? Is there anything more clear than that?

I cant “make up” for lost time but I can make sure I don’t lose anymore of it with people that could matter, over things that no longer do.

As for the racist dude that lorded over me in the bar this week-get bent.

Off feeling things,

Beaufield.

Keeping up with the Kardashians

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There are these Kardashian memes going around saying “In a world of Kardashians be a Diana” or a “Lucy” or an “Audrey” with pictures of all of these deceased pillars of fashion and culture, looking glamorous. And I think they’re ridiculous! Usually whatever people choose to adorn their instragram accounts and Facebook pages with never, ever bother me as a true believer in “Live and Let Live” but these crossed over somehow.

First, the use of these particular women. Women who have been immortalized by pop culture for the way they wore dresses and quotes that they may or may not have said. Women whose very essence at the time was deemed rebellious (Lucy married to a Cuban, Marilyn Monroe’s overt sexuality, Diana’s scandals) have become a pissing match with women of a different time, standard and role in the world. As if these woman ALL couldn’t coexist, and on some level don’t exist, inside all women. And if you are more THIS than THAT, you are somehow greater.

And there’s the problem.

There’s the problem with how girls learn to be women in America. Maybe in the World. I don’t know. You CAN’T be what you’re not. You DON’T need to fit into a box of what people deem ‘appropriate’ or ‘right for you’ and above all–you absolutely never have to compare yourself with another woman to feel a) better about yourself or b) bad about yourself.  If you are in fact a “Lucy” or a “Janis” you can indeed be true to that without any other factor. Especially what other girls got going on. If you are around a girlfriend who tells you that she’s “This” and you’re “That”–you get away from that friend. You go take a shower. And you find a friend who wants to LEARN what you are–not dictate your role to affirm her own. (Okay? Okay.)

1) Please society–stop pitting women against each other. And women STOP perpetuating this her vs. her stereotype. This competitive, comparison culture is so damaging. It is breeding insecurity and insecure people do desperate things. There is room for everyone to embrace their own imperfections and unique traits AND those of others. NOT look down their noses at other women for being “other.”  At what point can women get kudos for their own originality without comparing them to another woman? I am a Beaufield. I am going to focus on Beaufield things. And advance my life as a Beaufield.

YOU, are a __________. And you get to fill that in however you choose.

2) While we’re on the Kardashians. People are obsessed with hating them. Turn off your TV.  Get a life.  They don’t care about you or your hatred for them–so why are you wasting your energy in such a negative way? I mean, when it comes down to it the Kardashians have built an EMPIRE on their personalities. Why should that be something we thumb our noses at. Isn’t this the land of Free Enterprise? How many times have you looked at your friends and said “We should have a reality show”?

Like you never watched seventeen episodes in a row…on a sick day. Please.

3) The message is–love yourself, embrace your journey, in a world full of 7 billion people be YOU. Sexy, goofy, classy, drunk–whatever you got, bring it to the table and tell those bitches to Eat Up.

 

Artful Dodger-I’m so bad with titles.

Did I forget that art exists?

You know, I think I nearly did.

YESTERDAY-was a terrific day-part of the reason I didn’t get to my desk. I was busy living my life, I guess. An eternally late riser, everything starts 2 hours later for me than the rest of society. I’ll start with my mother was an art teacher for most of my childhood. Packing my brother and I up and hanging gallery shows, working with children of all different backgrounds and always, ALWAYS finding a way to give back to her community. The community must run in our blood because my Grandmother, although not a creative, has also dedicated her life to helping others.

Anyway, it’s very important to me that Shine be raised to explore. To create, to try things out, and to truly find his own path. It’s my job  as his mother to make sure that he has access to those many different things he can grow up interested in. He’s young-but the time is so fleeting, it seems a waste to me to wait for him to be old enough to “get things”–he gets them now even if they aren’t yet forming long term memories.

So we took him to the Joslyn Art Museum and spent a couple of hours traipsing through their exquisite collection. I used to be a guard there, when I was a teenager. That makes me laugh now. I owe them apologies. Mom, of course, talked through the whole thing, pushing Shine in his  stroller. God, he got it. He was pointing at everything, looking up wide eyed. He painted on this paint simulator for kids. He tossed coins into the fountains for his little wishes and yelled when it was time to leave. He truly didn’t want to go and we didn’t either. I was surprised at how wistful the whole trip made me. Watching them together, feeling like it was yesterday the little baby in my moms arms at the museum was me-or my brother. And now it’s my son. (I love my mother to no end.)

“I am a creator because my mother was a creature.” -Elizabeth Gilbert

My love of art used to define me. I used to spend hours there, alone, in the familiar galleries, in these worlds of oil and acrylic, getting lost, daydreaming–how much BIGGER life seemed then. More vast and so magical.

I haven’t been to this museum in years. Too many years. And I forgot that it was there for me.

I try to make a museum trip every time we go to a new city, see what their collections are like, The architecture of their buildings. It’s still one of my favorite things to do. But, there’s nothing like the home museum. The one with all the memories. The one with all the secret passageways you know. The ghosts you know.

I forgot there is this hometown peaceful respite where nothing exists but whatever painted world you’re looking into for that moment. And I’m sad it’s taken me being happy again to discover something I’ve needed so many other times before and didn’t seek out.

But, moreover, I’m so grateful to have it back now. I’ll never take so long a break from it again. It helped me remember my roots–and see just how far away from those I’d gotten. There are somedays I’m really down about being back in Omaha-but I realize that I needed to come back here to start all over again. Shine belongs with his grandmother in a museum, throwing pennies into a wishing well. And a big part of me does too.

Off dreaming,

Beaufield.

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My Mother and my Boy at Joslyn Art Museum. 01-13-16

Bowie Inspired

I’ve been stuck. I’ve been in this writing rut-the same place I always get it. The home stretch. The finishing bits. The edits.

THE END.

I’ve been questioning every decision I’ve made. Balancing on the words that are fiction versus the non fiction. Where am I finding honesty and where I am rewriting history?

Are these motives strong enough-just because they really happened? Will this be understood? What am I doing?

And then, early this morning on a routine Facebook check I got the news,  David Bowie passed away.

David Bowie, electric and unapologetic and true, always true to himself as an artist. No matter the critics, cynics, people who didn’t understand, thought he was too much….

And I swear it all clicked.

This is MY work. MY name. My blood in every word, every hour, every emotion, every turn on the page that was blank before we met. I don’t need to write for censors, for people who don’t “get it” out of fear they won’t like it. It doesn’t matter.

If I’m writing for the truth. Then I have to remain true.

I had a play pulled last year and one of the inciting reasons was the powers that be didn’t think it was “finished”-when I knew all along that the loudest mouth just didn’t like it.

And I questioned everything. Whats wrong with the script, with me as a writer, with me as a person, I’m never writing a script again–and on and on. Swirling around in that rejection that can absolutely kill an artist at their core.

I was supposed to make it nicer, more main stream, less “raunchy”, more like the other play. The play with all the women, none of the cursing, and all the audience. I was supposed to water it down and still stand by it like it was mine.

I’d rather die.

Can you imagine people who din’t respect your work  telling you what to do with your work? *Currently laughing* and then you change it to make them happy?

I jumped back into the edits this morning-feeling more resolved and determined as ever to remain real to my aesthetic and my vision for MY body of work.

There is no one in control here but me.  There is no one I’m writing for but me.

 

This is what I leave behind to my children and grandchildren–this is how you build history and legacy. And it’s never by fitting in someone else’s status quo. And somewhere-I started wanting to do that. Wanting to assimilate. Wanting to be one of the masses–because, really, it does make life “easier”–when it comes to the people who ultimately don’t matter anyway-

I’m digressing. The point is-fuck that.

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Thank you for the reminder and the legacy. I’ve always been more David Bowie than Betty Crocker, and regardless of how other people feel, it’s been time to remember that.

Off writing,

Beaufield

Commitment

I am committed to publishing a blog every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.

When you have a house and dog and a baby and a husband and upcoming projects and emails and social appointments and gym goals–sometimes it’s the only thing you can do to take a moment to yourself.

And I can’t even use all the things I love (maybe not the dog SO much) as excuses. Sometimes I avoid my computer, my thoughts, my keyboard-like the plague. A little music, a little Facebook, a little of anything to not have to face myself.

Like right now, my kid is pulling DVD’s off of the shelf in front of me. I stood up-looked at him and sat back down–ignoring the mess I will inevitably be cleaning and cursing later. I avoid writing like that sometimes. Oh, I see you. But I’m just gonna NOT address that right now and be pissed about it later.

Why is that? Why do we (i assume I’m not alone) run from the things that make us whole? Why is fear such a strong competitor in our lives? What is there to fear or to lose by just showing up? Showing up and doing the damn thing that makes you YOU–I am working that out now.

But, it’s Wednesday and here’s my blog post.

I am committed.

“Unless commitment is made, there are only promises and hopes; but no plans.” ―Peter F. Drucker

Friendship-J

I had this text exchange last night with my best friend, Jill. As you’ll learn I do have a few best friends. All completely different from each other (which is the best) some of them have never even met. AND, after decluttering my friend circle over the past few, growing years, have really earned their place in my life story. But J, (as I call her) has been my road dog for 15 years now! We have so many experiences and can absolutely count on each other for anything. I know I can’t think of one thing I wouldn’t do for her.

Jill, is SO many things. She spent the past few years moving around the country and participating in public service jobs after law school and frequently changing her hair color. She (recently?) “went vegan” and it took me a long time to adjust. Hahaha. We’re from Nebraska! I just didn’t understand. I compared myself to an elderly grandmother who got “veganism” confused with “lesbianism” and was always trying to get her to just “try a steak” because this was “just a phase.”

It wasn’t.

And the day came where I had to understand that my adventurous J, wasn’t going to be diving head first into plates of delicious aged cheeses with me, ever again. It was okay-we still had beer.

Anyway, I get this text from her last night and it REALLY made me so elated that such a beautiful quote would make her think of me. One, which is something I mention in my novel, I felt recognized. I felt like she knows me SO well, that she experiences ME in things outside of myself. Which I feel is important in true friendship. In true relationships. Those sweet moments of, “this is how you occur to me. I have to show you.” That is a terrific feeling. And two, if what reminds her of me is gratitude, endless gratitude-that means that the light I feel inside is illuminating the outside. That I’m not holding back on just how blessed I feel and the truly infinite gratitude I have for the wonderful relationships in my life.

So Wow!!

J, is the kind of person who does just what she wants, says just what she wants, doesn’t lie–I mean, I couldn’t even think of moment she was less than honest–and has no stirring to impress people. She is completely authentic within herself. And really, when a thought gets passed to you from a friend like THAT, it’s unquestionably golden. I think I can say that my dearest, closest friends today-are all that way-so it’s a beautiful thing.

Check out Jill’s book blog! http://www.Bookbabble.com

 

 

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Kinda Courageous?

The first blog post of the  year!

Ahhh, I FEEL the pressure.

So, not reflecting and just looking forward into the year that lays before all of us-a blank, beautiful slate, I am prepared. You?

This year of playing BIGGER and living courageously has been a long time coming. I have always sought a life full of experience, adventure, stories, sought love (in all the wrong places until now), and (but) meandered around the ideas of achievement or success. Meaning I’ve never really TRIED for much. Whoa, is that wild to admit.

I’ve always just kinda believed in myself. I’ve always kinda wanted to succeed at stuff. I’ve always kinda was fine with whatever happened. And in that way of kinda living–if it didn’t come easy, it didn’t come at all, and I was on to the next thing.

This has never been due to a lack of passion, and the truth be told I had more ambition than most people I knew. And maybe that was part of the problem. (Not a dig to them, but you KNOW when you’re in the wrong tribe.) But, what I DO know, is it had EVERYTHING to do with fear. As most things that hold you back in any way, do.

Fear of failure. Fear of success.Fear of vulnerability. Fear of not being liked. Fear of coming back home, tail between my legs and everyone knowing I wasn’t MORE. Fear of not being recognized.

I used to say, very seriously, if you never try-you can never fail.

Which is totally true. But what a terrible way to live, and whoever I was giving that advice to I owe a heartfelt apology. I’M SORRY! I WAS AN IDIOT!

I am complete with “kinda” living. I have a PHD in it, okay? And it’s worthless. I am ready to live courageously and fully. You can’t live kinda courageously. You can’t be kinda brave. These are bold choices that have no space in them for ambivalence. Playing BIGGER, living courageously.

This isn’t some grandiose New Years Resolution-but it IS a realization and a lifestyle change.

I’m stepping out of the stands and into the arena-where I’m going to get my ass kicked. Where I’m going to CARE, to SHARE, to be truly, openly vulnerable and put myself and my work out in the world for everyone to partake in. There will definitely continue to be fear. HOLY SHIT-is there going to be fear. But, being in the arena, I’m armed and ready to combat it, head on-instead of avoiding it all together by sitting meekly in the stands and only kinda participating in my own life.

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”
― Theodore Roosevelt