I saw a woman wearing a t-shirt that said, “Let That Shit Go.” I smiled.

You were born luminous. You were born gifted. You were born brilliant. You were born one-of-a-kind. You were born all of that, and you are all of that.

And you were born into a culture that does not tolerate uniqueness; that extinguishes brilliance; where the idea of a one-of-a-kind human is anathema. A culture determined to squeeze you, to shape you, to control you, to make you believe that its lies are your truths.

No doubt some of the cultural assaults on your brilliance have taken up residence within you. Maybe you think that the lies you were taught (and there are so many!) really are your truths. Maybe you’ve lived your life believing that your brilliance is somehow out of line, that your uniqueness is something to be ashamed of, that you are inadequate.

But you were also born with free will. So let that shit go!

I know, I know — easier said than done. But yet, it must be done if you are to get through life with your uniqueness intact, not to mention with your brilliance shining. Using your gifts is essential to your own well-being and to the well-being of all — you were born to guide Life’s evolution with your brilliance. But how can you shine your brilliance when you are rubbed all over with cultural crap? Let that shit go!

Here’s something else I’ve discovered is worthy of stalking—assumptions. I’ve been stalking my beliefs for 30 years, and I thought I was pretty good at it. Lately, however, I’ve been inspired to stalk my assumptions.

Oh my goodness! Gadzooks! Crikey! Assumptions galore! I wonder what percentage of my thinking has been taken up with assumptions. Not an insignificant percent, I can tell you that. I’ll tell you something else—I’m discovering that a lot of my assumptions are negative, as in judgmental and not nice. Here’s an example: I’m driving, and another driver does something unsafe. Say he passes me in a no passing zone (an all too common occurrence where I live). I automatically assume he’s a jerk. A dangerous, self-righteous jerk. An arrogant jerk. You get the picture? (and you sing, “Yes, we see.”)(Granted, many of you won’t get the musical allusion. Here’s a clue: vroom, vroom.)

A  reader called my attention to this Signal Fire, published 10 years ago. I like it, so I’m sending it again. And I’m pretty sure I’ll have a followup before very long.

I stalk beliefs. I lurk around the corners of my mind, listening to what I think and to what I say, ready to pounce when a belief appears. When I catch one, I investigate it. Becoming as open and undefended as I can, I try the belief on. What is its purpose? How does it feel in/on my body?

By and large, their purpose, it seems to me, is to make me feel safe, to make me feel less bewildered about the situations of life. But when I feel my way into beliefs, they almost always feel something like being encased in cotton batting, sticky cotton batting. They inhibit my breath, they cling to my skin, they make me feel energetically murky.

Safety takes up space that could be occupied by glory, by wonder, by awe, by curiosity. Glory, wonder, awe, joy, endless possibility — they feel spacious, airy, bright. There is no contest — they feel way better than sticky cotton batting.

So I stalk beliefs. I lurk and I pounce. And when I catch one, I celebrate. Because then I have a choice to either keep it or release it.

This is a follow-up to the most recent Signal Fire, which engendered some interesting conversations.

First, joy. People often ask me what the purpose of life is, and what the purpose of their life is. I will posit that, simply put, the purpose of life is to experience joy.

Second is the idea of deserving. Specifically, deserving joy. How does one become the kind of person who deserves joy? One doesn’t become that person, one is that person. You are born deserving joy. You are born with all the deserving you’ll ever need. You are and always have been 100% deserving of joy.

Joy is your birthright, deserving is in your very nature.

But it’s a journey, isn’t it? You’re born fully deserving to experience joy. But you’re born into a family, into a culture, into belief systems, into a time and a place—some or all of which may hinder you in fulfilling your life’s purpose to experience joy.

Remember the question from the last issue? “Is this life-giving to me?” You could just as well ask, “Does this enhance my experience of joy?” Does this belief, expectation, thought, experience, action, self-talk, perspective, interaction, emotion, idea, etc. enhance my ability to experience joy, or does it hinder?

Two guides on this journey recently died. Desmond Tutu and bell hooks. But they left behind important bodies of work to support you as you travel this path of fulfillment. Enjoy hanging out with them.

Joyful new year to you!

So many holidays! I hope some of yours have been happy.

I have, however, been aware that people are experiencing emotions other than happiness—anxiety, fear, and even angst. Maybe having nothing to do with all the holidays.

There’s a question I’ve been keeping close, and I invite you to use it, too: “Is this life-giving to me?” Ask the question and receive the answer.

Try it. Ask it about what you eat, what you drink. Is this life-giving to me? Receive the answer, and honor the answer. If the answer is yes, great. Enjoy. If the answer is no, then you get to make a decision. What can you do that will turn this into something  life-giving? Maybe the answer is to not eat or drink the thing. But maybe it’s something else. Ask. Receive the answer. Maybe the food needs your blessing first. Maybe the time of day is wrong. Maybe the preparation needs to be different. You don’t know until you ask.

Ask the question and there will be an answer. Maybe the answer will come as word in your mind—yes! no! Maybe it’ll be a sense of rightness or wrongness. Maybe it’ll be a smell, a sound, some kind of sensation in your body. If you ask the question, the answer will come.

Is this life-giving to me? Ask it about what you think, what you believe, what you want. Ask it when you’re grocery shopping. Ask it about the news program you’re watching, the magazine you’re reading, the conversation you’re having. Is this life-giving to me? Ask it about ideas you have. Ask it about your attitude towards yourself. Is this life-giving to me?

Ask it about everything. Ask it all the time. Make it a habit. The results may surprise you.

As an added bonus, you’ll strengthen your ability to receive information; you’ll strengthen your intuition. I’ll give you an example. Many years ago I wanted a new whistling tea kettle. I happened to spot a particularly delightful one in a store, but it cost $100. Way, way too much. I was disappointed, but there was no way I could justify spending that kind of money on a tea kettle. Pretty soon I forgot about wanting a tea kettle. The one I had was really just fine. But some months later, I was driving around town, running errands. Suddenly, a voice in my mind demanded, “Go to the PPL thrift store!”  I said, “Heck no. That’s way across town. Why in the world would I go there? Besides, I’m tired. No.”  But the voice was insistent. “Go to that store!” Well, after a bit more arguing, I gave in and went to the store. Maybe you can guess what I found there. Yup, that very tea kettle, that $100 tea kettle. How much? $5.00.

I heard the message because I was accustomed to hearing messages. I was accustomed to hearing messages because I was accustomed to asking, “Is this life-giving to me?”

Try it, you’ll like it! And happy new year.

I’ve said it before, but I keep smacking into this truth, so I’m saying it again. Everything I have ever judged another for, I eventually end up doing.

Little things, big things, seemingly inconsequential things. But truly, reaching out to another in judgment is never inconsequential. And judging another always reaches out. It is the nature of judgment to be an attack—little, big, or seemingly inconsequential. But is an attack ever inconsequential?

So this morning as I was reading, I was picking at a tiny rough spot on my arm, just a piece of dry skin, and it came off and bled a little, and I was gobsmacked by memory—judging old women with scabs on their arms!

Once again I learn a truth—everything I have ever judged another for, I end up doing (or had already done). And the list of people/behaviors I have judged is so long as to be nearly endless!

What do I do when I find myself behaving in a way I had judged in the past? I acknowledge it. I love myself as I am now. I love myself as I was then. And I love all old women with scabs!