One of our favorite writers, Charlaine Harris, has her very own blog with some very good, spiritual reflections. Not overtly spiritual, mind you. You do have to think outside the box a bit, just like when you read her Sookie Stackhouse novels and see that the discrimination she uses as part of the story line - Should vampires get married? If you can marry a vampire, the next thing you know, we'll allow werewolves to get married. And what if a vampire moves in next door to me? What will I tell the children? - are all really nifty ways to talk about the prejudices that have been a part of society for quite a while.
One of her recent posts discussed how she responded when people offered what she calls a "complaintment." They are, as Ms. Harris (who is an Episcopalian) says, "a complaint thinly disguised as a compliment."
We hear those quite often. I have a great-aunt who excelled at them. She would say things like, "You're hair used to look so cute when you were younger." Or "You cousin Blythe has such a cute face...for a chubby girl." Or (my personal favorite) "That Randall boy grew up to be successful and handsome. Too bad you didn't get him while you had a chance."
Yes. THAT'S a complaintment. It sounds nice, but it's not. It's actually a priceless example of passive-aggressiveness. What my great-aunt really wanted to say was, "I don't like your new haircut," or, "I think Blythe is overweight." But she didn't. She couched them in some back-handed compliment that, she thought, disguised her disappointment and perhaps even her anger.
We clergy types hear complaintments with regularity. They are suspiciously present in emails, where possibilities of true conversation are wholly absent. I suspect almost every profession hears them, but since I'm a priest, I'll speak for my pack. Complaintments about the length or content or style of our sermons. Complaintments about our appearance. Complaintments about the way we lead worship. Complaintments about how we do or don't do pastoral care, run parish meetings, or any number of things the "right" way. And. lest we forget, we clergy types are really good at dishing out complaintments, too. We are not exempt from this temptation.
(An aside, I happen to be a priest in a congregation that excels at healthy forthright conversation. To my parishioners: Don't read anything into this post other than the general nudge we all need to remember to speak our truth in love.)
And God bless Charlaine Harris, because I've finally found a response to share when someone offers a complaintment: "How do you hope I will feel when you say that to me?"
Because when we speak our complaintment, we want to be the "nice" person while we hand someone a stem of thorns which we pretend is a rose. It's not. It's prickly and hurtful to the recipient. Our words may look nice on the page, but we want the person to whom we are speaking to feel some kind of shame that they have disappointed our expectations. And shame ends a conversation, creates walls, and damages relationships.
While saying to someone, "I was disappointed when my husband was sick and you didn't call," may seem hard, it is your truth. When I've heard of my shortcomings as a priest from parishioners in a direct and clear way, I may have felt hurt and disappointment at myself, but I also felt the grace to talk with the person about what happened. Sometimes it was a misunderstanding. Sometimes I just made a mistake. We clergy make mistakes. Most of us are aware we screw up. Those who think they are perfect won't get the subtle passive-aggressive context of a complaintment, anyway. They may not even hear the direct approach, but that's another post.
Complaintments don't engage conversation; they are grenades thrown to explode where they may. Maybe we hear the pain that sits under the anger; maybe we don't. Maybe the person who hears the complaintment will dismiss the speaker. Maybe the person who says the complaintment will feel dismissed. Complaintments are mostly about manipulating and controlling the other person's feelings, usually by hurting them out of our own hurt and disappointment or anger. Any way you frame them, complaintments have no place in Christian conversation.
Truth, on the other hand, opens the space of peace and honesty. When we speak our truth, we offer ourselves into a vulnerable place. We open ourselves. When we speak our truth, we are not trying to control how the other feels. Instead, we are speaking our feelings - mad, sad, glad, or scared. We are giving ourselves to the grace of uncertainty. The other person may hear us or may not. There may be resolution or not. But there has been truth, and that is always valuable.
Complaintments are easy.
Truth is hard.
Speak your truth.
And read Charlaine Harris. Her books are wonderful.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Knowing how to fall
"Aren't you scared?" He asked me after I brought Wes in from a full gallop.
"Of what?" I asked, stretching my feet out of the stirrups and letting Wes walk around before his rubdown.
"That the horse will stumble and you'll fall off." My friend had come to take pictures of horses while I rode that afternoon.
"Oh, I've fallen off. Several times," I added, as Wes nuzzled me for a peppermint. Those people who think horses aren't smart have never carried peppermints in their pockets. Wes knows just how to stick his nose into my pockets if I'm not prompt enough in his opinion.
"And yes, anyone who rides horses has some level of fear," I said, "because we will always fall. A Mexican quote says, 'It is not enough to ride. She must also know how to fall'."
He nodded, fairly unconvinced that he was willing to fall for some new experience. Instead, he took a picture of Wes, grazing on some grass while I began to strip off his tack.
My riding instructor says there are two types of riders: Those who have just fallen off a horse and those who are about to fall off a horse. That's very true. If you ride a horse, you will fall. Maybe you'll get lucky and fall off in some graceful way, but I never seem to do that. I fall ass-over-teakettle onto the ground. Instinct tells me to make sure I'm away from hooves and to sit for a moment as I make sure all of my bones are still in tact. So far, so good.
Falling isn't the only fear around the amazing and large creatures. I've had my feet stepped on by horses, who are considerably larger than we humans are. Steel-toed boots help, but not that much. And those boots are made for riding, not walking, so they give a fair number of blisters on their own. I've been bitten by horses, and their bites leave big, ugly bruises. A couple of the horses in the stable enjoy chewing on my shirts and adding attractive holes in them. And occasionally they nip on my skin as they create my horse-designed shirts. The stronger-willed horses need tight reins, which almost always mean blisters on fingers to match the ones on my feet.
Riding is one place where my soul is most, well, fully my soul. Bruises, blisters, aching tailbones from abrupt meetings with the ground - all are part of the experience. And yes, so is the fear. When a beautiful horse takes off on a full gallop, you are along for the ride. Yes, you could fall. Yes, you can get hurt if something happens. And yes, you also get to come as close to being full Spirit as one can be on this side of the Kingdom, at least for me. No matter how crazy my week or how overwhelming the days have felt, time on a horse is God's reset button for me.
My holy horse reset button, like everything of the Holy, does not come without risk and fear. Faith is not the knowledge that nothing bad will ever happen. Faith is simply, for me, the courage that God is with me in the love, in the fear, in the uncertainty, and in the mess of life. Faith allows me to meet fear and acknowledge her, not ignore her.
Fear will never be enough to discourage me from being fully my soul with God's beautiful creature, the horse. Perhaps riding with fear as a companion makes me more fully in my soul. Perhaps my horse-found relationship with fear allows me to listen to her more completely, to distinguish between those fears that are valid (like when a horse makes that small shift from spirited to dangerous) and those fears that need to be silenced (what if I look stupid?). Who knows.
When we try to live life without fear, we aren't living. And when we act as if we aren't fearful in this experience called life, we are lying. We fear things in life because they hurt, because we've had a bad experience before, because we don't want to make mistakes, and because any number of reasons that are logical and illogical and all valid. Living life leads to blisters on our hearts, bruises on our souls, and holes in our spirits. We stumble and fall because of our own mistakes. We crash to the ground because we are pushed by others. We may even find ourselves sitting in a pile of manure (yep, that happens when you ride horses, too).
We fall. It's a rule of life. If you're living, you will fall. And when we fall, just fall. Sit for a moment. Cry if you need to cry. Be stunned and shocked if you need that, too. Falling hurts much of the time, so be still and know. Feel your bones and soul. Let them heal if need be. Stretch to see what hurts and what doesn't. Then, when you feel ready, take a deep breath.
And get up. Your soul is waiting to ride the Holy Spirit. She wants to soar and gallop with you in life.
So saddle up with fear, because she's there. And saddle up with love and courage, because so are they.
And ride. And fall.
In living life, it is not enough to know how to ride. We must also know how to fall.
"Of what?" I asked, stretching my feet out of the stirrups and letting Wes walk around before his rubdown.
"That the horse will stumble and you'll fall off." My friend had come to take pictures of horses while I rode that afternoon.
"Oh, I've fallen off. Several times," I added, as Wes nuzzled me for a peppermint. Those people who think horses aren't smart have never carried peppermints in their pockets. Wes knows just how to stick his nose into my pockets if I'm not prompt enough in his opinion.
"And yes, anyone who rides horses has some level of fear," I said, "because we will always fall. A Mexican quote says, 'It is not enough to ride. She must also know how to fall'."
He nodded, fairly unconvinced that he was willing to fall for some new experience. Instead, he took a picture of Wes, grazing on some grass while I began to strip off his tack.
My riding instructor says there are two types of riders: Those who have just fallen off a horse and those who are about to fall off a horse. That's very true. If you ride a horse, you will fall. Maybe you'll get lucky and fall off in some graceful way, but I never seem to do that. I fall ass-over-teakettle onto the ground. Instinct tells me to make sure I'm away from hooves and to sit for a moment as I make sure all of my bones are still in tact. So far, so good.
Falling isn't the only fear around the amazing and large creatures. I've had my feet stepped on by horses, who are considerably larger than we humans are. Steel-toed boots help, but not that much. And those boots are made for riding, not walking, so they give a fair number of blisters on their own. I've been bitten by horses, and their bites leave big, ugly bruises. A couple of the horses in the stable enjoy chewing on my shirts and adding attractive holes in them. And occasionally they nip on my skin as they create my horse-designed shirts. The stronger-willed horses need tight reins, which almost always mean blisters on fingers to match the ones on my feet.
Riding is one place where my soul is most, well, fully my soul. Bruises, blisters, aching tailbones from abrupt meetings with the ground - all are part of the experience. And yes, so is the fear. When a beautiful horse takes off on a full gallop, you are along for the ride. Yes, you could fall. Yes, you can get hurt if something happens. And yes, you also get to come as close to being full Spirit as one can be on this side of the Kingdom, at least for me. No matter how crazy my week or how overwhelming the days have felt, time on a horse is God's reset button for me.
My holy horse reset button, like everything of the Holy, does not come without risk and fear. Faith is not the knowledge that nothing bad will ever happen. Faith is simply, for me, the courage that God is with me in the love, in the fear, in the uncertainty, and in the mess of life. Faith allows me to meet fear and acknowledge her, not ignore her.
Fear will never be enough to discourage me from being fully my soul with God's beautiful creature, the horse. Perhaps riding with fear as a companion makes me more fully in my soul. Perhaps my horse-found relationship with fear allows me to listen to her more completely, to distinguish between those fears that are valid (like when a horse makes that small shift from spirited to dangerous) and those fears that need to be silenced (what if I look stupid?). Who knows.
When we try to live life without fear, we aren't living. And when we act as if we aren't fearful in this experience called life, we are lying. We fear things in life because they hurt, because we've had a bad experience before, because we don't want to make mistakes, and because any number of reasons that are logical and illogical and all valid. Living life leads to blisters on our hearts, bruises on our souls, and holes in our spirits. We stumble and fall because of our own mistakes. We crash to the ground because we are pushed by others. We may even find ourselves sitting in a pile of manure (yep, that happens when you ride horses, too).
We fall. It's a rule of life. If you're living, you will fall. And when we fall, just fall. Sit for a moment. Cry if you need to cry. Be stunned and shocked if you need that, too. Falling hurts much of the time, so be still and know. Feel your bones and soul. Let them heal if need be. Stretch to see what hurts and what doesn't. Then, when you feel ready, take a deep breath.
And get up. Your soul is waiting to ride the Holy Spirit. She wants to soar and gallop with you in life.
So saddle up with fear, because she's there. And saddle up with love and courage, because so are they.
And ride. And fall.
In living life, it is not enough to know how to ride. We must also know how to fall.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Answers to some of your questions
We get a few questions about our blog and other random things, so while we are still slightly brain-dead from writing, we thought we'd answer a few of the questions. Writing this post made us feel a bit like we were answering questions to be nominated as bishop or to be in the Miss America pageant (insert snark here) - but here you go. We appreciate your indulgence.
1. Are your blog posts based on your real lives?
Pretty much. While we often change names and identifying information, many of our posts are things that have happened to us. Grief, mistakes, joy - all of it is part of who we are, and all of it becomes part of our story.
2. When does the book come out, and will it be a collection of your blog posts?
We have been told it will be released in November, and it will not be a collection of our blog posts. Parts of some blog posts are in the book, but 90% of the book is new, original material. We both lived through three very difficult years recently, years filled with grief, pain, and disappointment, among other things. Basically, the book is our story of that time. Priests seem to write about pretty theological things; we write about the pain and ugliness of life and how we saw God is in that, too. We keep our sass and quirky observations, and we write about how painful those years were, how they were death to our souls, how the church broke our hearts, and how resurrection is not just a story in the Gospels. We hope our story connects with those who have had their hearts broken, too.
3. Who would be your perfect clergy spouses?
Mary is quite certain Jason Statham is all ready to marry a priest. Laurie prefers Alcide the construction worker/werewolf. That Mary likes an action hero actor and Laurie likes a fictional monster, well, you asked. And we've never said we weren't quirky. We would be remiss if we didn't put a shout-out to Anne Lane who argues with Laurie that Eric the Vampire Sheriff would be the perfect clergy spouse. If you have no idea who we are talking about, read the Sookie Stackhouse series by Episcopalian Charlaine Harris (the novels on which Alan Ball based his series True Blood).
4. Are you two really friends? Are you really Episcopal priests?
Yep to both, much to the chagrin of a few priests and bishops, we're certain. We are the reason each other has unlimited cell phone minutes. And we are both currently serving parishes in the Episcopal church.
5. How did the blog get created?
We mention this in the book (by the way, we are really in book publicity mode - forgive us), but basically, we were attending a New Year's Eve party in the French Quarter in New Orleans and talking about starting a blog. The drag queen hosting the party suggested we name it Dirty Sexy Ministry, based on the awful television series Dirty Sexy Money that had just been cancelled. It seemed like a dandy idea. We've had plenty of ideas in the French Quarter that seemed like good ones; this is one of the rare ones that was.
6. Have you gotten push-back from the blog?
Oh yes. Both of us had parishes when we were in the search process that didn't like the blog. We've both heard those shocked and appalled conversations as colleagues in former dioceses shared their scandal at the blog title and its contents, as well. At times, quitting the blog has seemed like an option - there are just so many criticisms we could hear about our writing before we wondered if writing was worth the cost.
We both can say loudly, "Yes! Writing our truth is worth the cost." From the emails and letters we've gotten through the years about our posts, we found courage from you. We are delighted to say that we both serve in dioceses and in parishes that support our blog.
7. How did you get a book deal?
Yes, we're wondering that, too. We think God, the Holy Spirit, and Nancy Bryan at Church Publishing had much to do with it.
8. Are you going to do a book tour?
Yes, and if you'd like us to come to your parish, email us at dirtysexyministry (at) gmail (dot) com for information. And yes, again, we ask your indulgence on the pr the book thing.
9. What is your biggest surprise about the blog?
The amazing people we've met because of the blog. Both of us have friends we've made through the blog - clergy who've asked us to lead retreats and people who've emailed us about a post and kept in touch, among others. Neither of us really can believe anyone other than our close friends and family reads the blog, but we are so glad for the support and feedback. Thank you!
10. Chocolate or vanilla?
Chocolate. We're also big fans of sushi, Mr. John's steaks, and fresh watermelon. We eat lots of whole grain cereal, and we love naps. And Jesus.
1. Are your blog posts based on your real lives?
Pretty much. While we often change names and identifying information, many of our posts are things that have happened to us. Grief, mistakes, joy - all of it is part of who we are, and all of it becomes part of our story.
2. When does the book come out, and will it be a collection of your blog posts?
We have been told it will be released in November, and it will not be a collection of our blog posts. Parts of some blog posts are in the book, but 90% of the book is new, original material. We both lived through three very difficult years recently, years filled with grief, pain, and disappointment, among other things. Basically, the book is our story of that time. Priests seem to write about pretty theological things; we write about the pain and ugliness of life and how we saw God is in that, too. We keep our sass and quirky observations, and we write about how painful those years were, how they were death to our souls, how the church broke our hearts, and how resurrection is not just a story in the Gospels. We hope our story connects with those who have had their hearts broken, too.
3. Who would be your perfect clergy spouses?
Mary is quite certain Jason Statham is all ready to marry a priest. Laurie prefers Alcide the construction worker/werewolf. That Mary likes an action hero actor and Laurie likes a fictional monster, well, you asked. And we've never said we weren't quirky. We would be remiss if we didn't put a shout-out to Anne Lane who argues with Laurie that Eric the Vampire Sheriff would be the perfect clergy spouse. If you have no idea who we are talking about, read the Sookie Stackhouse series by Episcopalian Charlaine Harris (the novels on which Alan Ball based his series True Blood).
4. Are you two really friends? Are you really Episcopal priests?
Yep to both, much to the chagrin of a few priests and bishops, we're certain. We are the reason each other has unlimited cell phone minutes. And we are both currently serving parishes in the Episcopal church.
5. How did the blog get created?
We mention this in the book (by the way, we are really in book publicity mode - forgive us), but basically, we were attending a New Year's Eve party in the French Quarter in New Orleans and talking about starting a blog. The drag queen hosting the party suggested we name it Dirty Sexy Ministry, based on the awful television series Dirty Sexy Money that had just been cancelled. It seemed like a dandy idea. We've had plenty of ideas in the French Quarter that seemed like good ones; this is one of the rare ones that was.
6. Have you gotten push-back from the blog?
Oh yes. Both of us had parishes when we were in the search process that didn't like the blog. We've both heard those shocked and appalled conversations as colleagues in former dioceses shared their scandal at the blog title and its contents, as well. At times, quitting the blog has seemed like an option - there are just so many criticisms we could hear about our writing before we wondered if writing was worth the cost.
We both can say loudly, "Yes! Writing our truth is worth the cost." From the emails and letters we've gotten through the years about our posts, we found courage from you. We are delighted to say that we both serve in dioceses and in parishes that support our blog.
7. How did you get a book deal?
Yes, we're wondering that, too. We think God, the Holy Spirit, and Nancy Bryan at Church Publishing had much to do with it.
8. Are you going to do a book tour?
Yes, and if you'd like us to come to your parish, email us at dirtysexyministry (at) gmail (dot) com for information. And yes, again, we ask your indulgence on the pr the book thing.
9. What is your biggest surprise about the blog?
The amazing people we've met because of the blog. Both of us have friends we've made through the blog - clergy who've asked us to lead retreats and people who've emailed us about a post and kept in touch, among others. Neither of us really can believe anyone other than our close friends and family reads the blog, but we are so glad for the support and feedback. Thank you!
10. Chocolate or vanilla?
Chocolate. We're also big fans of sushi, Mr. John's steaks, and fresh watermelon. We eat lots of whole grain cereal, and we love naps. And Jesus.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Success and Failure in Ministry
Early in my priesthood, my clergy mentor and rector told me
not to fear failure. Failure would be a regular occurrence in ministry. I
should also try not to avoid trying something new for fear that it would fail.
How else would I learn?
Of course, that wise priest was always right. I took the
lesson, but inwardly I still wanted to do everything right. I wanted every
activity that happened in the parish to be a success, as defined by me. Success
for me looked like hundreds of people clamoring to participate and to proclaim their
unending accolades for my efforts. I would run meetings and ministries with
efficiency (or what I interpreted as efficiency).
Inevitably, failure occurred. Sometimes the fault lay with
the circumstance. Often the fault would lie with me. My agenda, my need, my
motivation would creep in the way. I would wonder why these failures occurred.
What could I do in the future to avoid them?
I would, of course, experience failure in my personal life,
and wonder the same thing: how could I avoid these failures? A friend helped me
reframe the question slightly: what should the expected outcome have been? How
are you defining success? Did the outcome really matter?
Does the outcome matter? I guess that the answer is often “yes,
of course.” I want my surgeon to
successfully operate. I want my airline pilot to correctly land a jet. In these
areas, we must have set, determined, successful outcomes, but in ministry, a
successful outcome is not necessarily defined as clearly.
You may have a wildly popular event, but what does that have
to do with loving God and your neighbor as yourself? You may run an efficient
meeting, but what does that have to do with the Kingdom of God? I am not saying
that either has nothing to do with the Glory of God. I am saying that in
ministry our outcomes are for the Glory of God. Our success is measured in
relationship, if it can be measured at all.
How then can I measure success for myself? How then can I
measure failure for myself? Do I measure by my motivation and effort? Do I measure
by an outwardly discerned outcome? One thing I know for certain is that how I
measure my success or failure in ministry must be based on something internal.
I need to be able to determine for myself whether or not I
honestly gave my best effort. I need to be able to answer to myself and know my
motives. I need to be able to discern if I have learned something. I need to
know that I do love my God and my neighbor as myself. My measuring stick is
internal, tapping into that eternal gut instinct.
The measuring stick for ministry is also somewhat internal,
internal to the very Spirit of God. Successful Ministry is not concerned with
popularity but impact. Successful Ministry is not concerned with numbers but
relationship. Successful Ministry is not concerned with efficiency but
motivation for the Glory of God.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
A To-Do List
Some things we've discovered make life a bit more interesting, fun, and less stressful. Just some suggestions. Do them if you choose. Or not.
1. Learn a prayer in another language that is not your native tongue. God speaks more than English (the native language of most of our readers, we presume). It can be one sentence. Even one word. Just learn it from memory, then know that somewhere in the world, a person you've never met is praying in this language, too.
2. Take five minutes to be overwhelmed by how big the universe really is. Standing in the dark night and looking at the moon and stars works for me. Mountains are also helpful. But just remember that we are profoundly small when one considers the scope of the universe, and yet God knows every hair on our heads.
3. Appreciate things like the endless supply of clean water that runs from our taps and indoor plumbing. Much of the world doesn't have either. Don't feel guilty; just feel appreciative. And drink more water.
4. Do not stand in front of a filled refrigerator and/or pantry and say, "There's nothing to eat." There is something to eat. Just get imaginative and create. Trust me, you can make amazing dishes with grains and spices. Or donate what you don't want to eat to a food pantry, because someone in your town will eat it. And while I'm at it, buy local and fresh. It's so much better. And eat seasonally. Okay, off the soapbox.
5. Walk in bare feet at least once a day. Feel the grass and dirt with your toes.
6. Give yourself total permission to feel the emotion you are feeling when you are able to do so for at least 10 minutes each day. Without excuses. If you feel mad, feel mad. If you are happy, feel gleefully happy. If you are sad, sit and weep. Quite smiling when you want to cry. Just don't hurt yourself. Or anyone else.
7. Know the difference between being friends with someone and being friendly with someone. Invest in friends. Struggle when needed with them. Be patient in those relationships. Be friendly with everyone else, but don't let them live rent-free in your soul.
8. Learn all the words to at least one fabulous Broadway show tune. Belt it out when you're alone or with someone who appreciates your singing voice, no matter how odd that high C sounds.
9. Have at least one movie that is your go-to "I need to cry" movie and one that is your go-to "I need to remember why life is worthwhile" movie. Suggestions for both of these can be made in the comments.
10. Quit buying things because someone, somewhere says they are in style or cool or must-haves of the season. Quit watching shows or reading magazines that tell you you are too fat, not stylish enough, live in an outdated decor, or just generally make you feel less than. Who cares if the colors clash? Who cares if your favorite cut-off jeans are covered in paint stains - okay, I don't wear them to formal events, but around the house - heck yes. Own what makes you happy. Wear what makes you feel treasured and beautiful. Surround yourself with things that cause you to smile when you see them in your home. Give the rest of that crap away.
1. Learn a prayer in another language that is not your native tongue. God speaks more than English (the native language of most of our readers, we presume). It can be one sentence. Even one word. Just learn it from memory, then know that somewhere in the world, a person you've never met is praying in this language, too.
2. Take five minutes to be overwhelmed by how big the universe really is. Standing in the dark night and looking at the moon and stars works for me. Mountains are also helpful. But just remember that we are profoundly small when one considers the scope of the universe, and yet God knows every hair on our heads.
3. Appreciate things like the endless supply of clean water that runs from our taps and indoor plumbing. Much of the world doesn't have either. Don't feel guilty; just feel appreciative. And drink more water.
4. Do not stand in front of a filled refrigerator and/or pantry and say, "There's nothing to eat." There is something to eat. Just get imaginative and create. Trust me, you can make amazing dishes with grains and spices. Or donate what you don't want to eat to a food pantry, because someone in your town will eat it. And while I'm at it, buy local and fresh. It's so much better. And eat seasonally. Okay, off the soapbox.
5. Walk in bare feet at least once a day. Feel the grass and dirt with your toes.
6. Give yourself total permission to feel the emotion you are feeling when you are able to do so for at least 10 minutes each day. Without excuses. If you feel mad, feel mad. If you are happy, feel gleefully happy. If you are sad, sit and weep. Quite smiling when you want to cry. Just don't hurt yourself. Or anyone else.
7. Know the difference between being friends with someone and being friendly with someone. Invest in friends. Struggle when needed with them. Be patient in those relationships. Be friendly with everyone else, but don't let them live rent-free in your soul.
8. Learn all the words to at least one fabulous Broadway show tune. Belt it out when you're alone or with someone who appreciates your singing voice, no matter how odd that high C sounds.
9. Have at least one movie that is your go-to "I need to cry" movie and one that is your go-to "I need to remember why life is worthwhile" movie. Suggestions for both of these can be made in the comments.
10. Quit buying things because someone, somewhere says they are in style or cool or must-haves of the season. Quit watching shows or reading magazines that tell you you are too fat, not stylish enough, live in an outdated decor, or just generally make you feel less than. Who cares if the colors clash? Who cares if your favorite cut-off jeans are covered in paint stains - okay, I don't wear them to formal events, but around the house - heck yes. Own what makes you happy. Wear what makes you feel treasured and beautiful. Surround yourself with things that cause you to smile when you see them in your home. Give the rest of that crap away.
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