P.E. Kavanagh's Blog

Please excuse this interruption to your regularly scheduled programming. (Don’t worry. Today’s post is short and sweet to get you back to your big screen and crunchy snacks.)

A certain game might be front of mind for you today, but I’m talking about the REAL game… called LIFE. (Not the board game, either.)

No balls, hoops, goals or uniforms needed. Which doesn’t mean you can show up unprepared. You’ll need strategy, smarts, self-awareness and a significant dose of surrender. (My recipe also calls for a dollop of sass.)

Viewing life as a game translates into a lighthearted determination that meets whatever arises with curiosity.

It means looking at your life as an exploration, an experiment, a joyful series of reveals. (As the grand poobah of coaching, Steve Chandler, says, life is a choice between GAME or SHAME.)

It redefines obstacles as opportunities.

Games are exciting and fun, especially if the outcome is unknown beforehand. Messiness, tumbles and bumps are all part of the enjoyment.

 

If the halftime show is a snooze, maybe take a moment to ponder a few questions about your particular game.

What team are you playing on?
What are you defending or protecting?
Where is your goal line?
Why did you put it there?
What is it going to take to get there?
How is uncertainty holding you back?
How have you defined ‘winning’?
In what ways are you NOT playing full out?
How can you make it more fun?

 

I’ll raise some nachos to that.

SCORE!!

P.S. Will you be on my team?

The post The Big Game appeared first on Feed Your Soul.

Does it hurt when a snake sheds its skin?

Or when a caterpillar liquefies to transform into a butterfly?

I wonder.

Because my life has felt like a consistent shedding, liquefying and re-forming. Usually there is a marked improvement (ooooh – pretty wings!) but sometimes not (eeew – from vibrant green to muddy brown).

The impulse to evolve is relentless. That comfy position you created for yourself is sitting on quicksand.

There’s been a transformation brewing in my Universe. I’m birthing a blue whale, people!

For approximately the past year, I’ve sensed that itchy discomfort you get when your skin doesn’t fit anymore. It was time to grow into the next version of me.

I was not ready.

I felt as if I had just arrived at this iteration, and was just starting to feel at home.

But the Universe had different plans. I was called to make some drastic changes in my habits to address some health issues.

I was given the grand opportunity to take the deep dive into love and partnership.

An expanded view of my work and its impact on my client’s lives led to a major re-definition of my web presence (not to mention saying goodbye to the professional image I had nurtured since birth).

It all hurt, even just a little bit (and sometimes lots more than that).

Growth can be painful. It’s supposed to. (That’s how we know it’s growth.)

But it’s the good kind of hurt, like how your body feels after a workout.

My tiny little bird of a daughter sprouted into a full-sized human being seemingly overnight. She tells me she feeeeeels it… in her bones and muscles. I believe her.

And even the non-physical growth I’m currently experiencing is accompanied by an ache, somewhere between my heart and my gut.

Birthing a blue whale is serious business. After a year of gestation, you’ve got to actually push the thing out.

It’s almost time.

Being terrible at keeping secrets means I’m letting some leak. (Can you hear my giddy laughter?)

Here goes…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The project, nearing its end, feels like a fabulous gift, perfectly wrapped. It’s got a sprinkle of ‘change is hard’ and great, big handfuls of YAY!

What do you think of the new look?

It’s still me, perhaps a bit clearer, stronger and more determined. I’ve seen miracles happen – too many to name – and I would love for you to be part of it.

With every invitation to change, grow and transform we have a choice. Many choices, actually.

 

When you are being called to create a new way, a new you, what will you do? Will you birth your own blue whale?

I hope so.

 

I’ll be here to support you the whole way. Just ask.

 

Did I mention YAY?

 

The post The Art of Change appeared first on Feed Your Soul.

I’ve never had writer’s block.

In fact, I categorized it with the many things I don’t believe in at all (e.g. Easter bunny, moon landing, terrible two’s, etc…).

Two months ago I made a public declaration (as a requirement for the upcoming completion of my Master’s degree in Spiritual Psychology) that I would (FINALLY!) complete a book I have been talking about for nearly 10 years.

It is a book that represents profound healing for myself, and (hopefully) many, many others.

A funny thing happened as soon as I made that one promise – “I will complete a publication-ready manuscript by June 2016.” –

… my creative well went dry.

Not only did I find myself stalled on working on the book, I found it difficult to write anything at all.

Strangest feeling ever.

I don’t ever recall being short for words, thoughts or lessons (just ask my daughter).

But there it was, staring me right in the face in the form of a pixel-free white screen.

I tried to trick myself into starting by doing some purely fun writing…

 

Haiku

Is this writer’s block?

So unfamiliar to me

A stream turned to stone

 

Limerick

There once was a woman who wrote

Because language and words float her boat

But one surprise day

The words went away

Where was that darn antidote?

 

Fun as that was, it didn’t lead to anything serious or productive.

So… when there’s something you both want and have to do, and it begins to play hide-and-seek with you, what to do?

Here is my non-exhaustive (and often conflicting) list of ideas:

Push through, aka feel the fear and do it anyway
Change the language in your head from “I have to…” to “I want to…” or “I choose to…”.
Do the opposite (Can’t write? Dance!)
Move your body
Don’t just do something, sit there. (Keep reminding the Muse you are ready to receive by showing up – pen in hand, smile on face.)
Rally some friendly support

And my favorite…

Curiosity. (No cats harmed in this experiment.)

 

Curiosity is the antidote to paralysis, indecisiveness and the crippling grip of fear.

 

Instead of getting on the downward slip-n-slide of, “Oh my God, I can’t write!!!” I could instead glide along on the magic carpet of, “I’m curious about this sensation I’m experiencing. I think I’ll explore a bit.”

Curiosity got me to try different things, from silly to serious.
Curiosity kept me directed toward my ultimate goal, even when the going got tough.
Curiosity kept asking the question, “What’s REALLY going on here?” otherwise known as, “What am I afraid of?”
Curiosity led me to excavate all the dark, sticky muck I had layered on during my decade of NOT writing this book. All the fear about being raw, vulnerable and excruciatingly honest. All the self-doubt about my abilities and qualifications to write what I wanted to. All of the unprocessed emotional remnants of the most eventful period of my life.
Curiosity unclogged the drain.

From there, it was possible to graciously appreciate what I had been through and forgive myself for all the self-judgment it had caused.

The process was incredibly healing. I accessed a level of self-compassion I didn’t know I had.

It allowed me to use my favorite tools – devotion, courage and joy – in service to something that has always brought me great satisfaction – writing.

And it eventually re-connected me with my humanity, my desires and my purpose.

The truth is, I still don’t believe in writer’s block. I don’t believe our creative impulse ever leaves us. It may become a bit hard to find (a la car keys, socks, and anything in my daughter’s room), but that’s just an invitation to playfully come find it again.

Curious, isn’t it?

 

The post A Curious Case of Writer’s Block appeared first on Feed Your Soul.

I’m in the opening stretch of a very busy time, and only getting busier.

I feel my body wanting to brace for impact, and it takes diligence to keep telling myself to lean in and soften. It’s so easy to spiral into the impossibility of it all – too many to-do’s for one person, three continents in three weeks, a Master’s project looming, and a brand new teenager. It’s a stress trifle.

My travel schedule looks like something I would have conjured up a few years ago, before I realized the wear and tear it was causing on my body. “I can get through this,” I whisper to myself, with more than a little disbelief.

I’m ready… I think.

There’s a new manager at my favorite airport parking spot. I dislike him immediately. He communicates as if everything is an interrogation, and within the first 3 minutes has said 3 profoundly inappropriate and offensive things to me. I believe he thinks he’s flirting. (“I bet there’s one sweet girl under there,” he says, in the face of my utter annoyance. I fantasize about getting him fired.)

I want to ride my pettiness like a pony, around and around the yard, with a pout on my face and a sharpness in my kick. There’s a whine of epic proportion wanting to make its way up and out.

To be offended comes easily. So does overwhelm.

But this is not the Big Life I want to live. This is not the Bold Soul I want to be.

What to do, you might ask?

Access my secret ingredients… those elements I know will turn the brew I’m concocting from bitter to sweet.

(It has taken me a lifetime to find my own personal antidotes to the oh-so-enticing toxic elements.)

They are:

Courage

Devotion

Joy

Courage helps me find my voice, even in the presence of frighteningly large, former law-enforcement, parking lot managers. Courage feeds the fire that keeps inspiration and passion from growing cold and slushy. It is the microsecond of push that resets the path.

 

Devotion says, “I will,” even when all the naysayers are screaming, “You can’t.” it keeps my eye on the horizon, and my heart connected to the bigger picture. It’s a reminder that every single thing that happens is sacred, from airport traffic to the warm TSA agent (!!!) to the fact that I am flying thousands of mile in an enormous metal tube with wings.

 

Joy is the sprinkle of sparkles that makes everything lighter. And prettier. I recently had the realization of how I had taken on the seriousness of life without allowing for joy (not that it wasn’t there). Now it’s a practice I’ve committed to: Find the Joy! (In the rare cases it’s not already there: Bring the Joy!)

 

One week in, I laugh at the scene at the airport that, at the time, made me furious. In retrospect, it always feels surprising that what I know now was not available to me then.

Things get really delicious when I realize they always are.

 

What are your secret ingredients? How will you remember? (Personally, I’m trying out a golden tattoo. It seems to be working.)

 

The post Secret Ingredients appeared first on Feed Your Soul.

One of my favorite healers (and human beings) used the phrase ‘generosity of sadness’ in our last conversation. I thought it was so poetic and beautiful that I grabbed the closest notepad and wrote it down.

I didn’t know what it meant.

Perhaps I still don’t.

But it felt like something in my mouth demanding to be chewed.

After passing by that notepad several times a day for a few weeks (and faithfully chewing), here’s what arrived:

We often see the less pleasant emotions as taking things away from us – our happiness, our peace, our wellbeing. Sadness, anger, grief and worry are like thieves in the night, adeptly making off with our good silver and fancy new devices.

I get that.

Peering from a slightly different angle, however, I began to recognize that sadness (and all its sneaky friends) actually has much to offer.

Sadness reminds us of our humanity – our frailty, our weakness, our impermanence. To be touched in this way allows for compassion, empathy, and, yes, generosity to find their way in as well.

It pleads for us to ask the big questions, even if they have no answers. It shakes and prods us into seeking relief, which almost always means a new way of being. Sadness can be the companion that (willingly or not) drags us into our next best self by ripping open our desires, our drives and the unstoppable impulse to grow.

If nothing else, sadness can illuminate what lies unresolved, in the same way a gentle touch of a childhood scar can spark an important memory. Being able to ‘watch’ with a new, more mature, more aware perspective is how we heal the past.

Love your sadness as the gift it is. Let it work its mysterious magic.

And then get up, congratulate yourself on your newfound glow, and shine that light somewhere it’s needed.

The Universe can’t wait to see what you’ll do next.

 

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Many people claim to want greatness.

All of them encounter failure.

Very few are willing to do the inner work necessary to develop the emotional and spiritual resilience to make that desired greatness a sustained reality.

If you are one of those few, click here for your next step.

Let’s do this.





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The post The Generosity of Sadness appeared first on Feed Your Soul.

There was a point in my spiritual journey where I found myself highly disturbed by the people around me. No, not the ‘regular’ people of everyday life… the angry driver, the ignorant telemarketer, the rude flight attendant.

I was annoyed by the people in the various spiritual communities I had joined.

I felt incredibly triggered, in an arena that claims to strive for healing and enlightenment, by how enshrined everyone was in their personal suffering.

In the same way Grandma peppers every conversation with a recounting of her sciatica, the members of these spiritual ‘clubs’ defined themselves by their traumas and dramas.

 

“Hi, I’m David. I was molested by my uncle.”

“Hi, I’m Christine. My mother died when I was 12.”

“Hi, I’m Julie. My husband has cancer.”

 

These are accurate representations of the kinds of conversations that take place on a regular basis. In the first few moments of meeting.

In no other place had I experienced the pervasiveness of this behavior. It shocked me anytime I witnessed a stranger pouring out their deepest darkest secrets with no warm-up.

There is something to be said for not repressing our hurts, and for feeling safe enough to share. It’s another issue to walk around with our suffering as if it were a security blanket.

Maybe it’s me, I thought. I am too private. I am too ashamed. I am too mistrusting.

Those perceptions may or may not be true. However, it always felt incomprehensible to unload a burden onto someone with whom I did not have an agreement to do so.

This level of honesty and revealing is required in the therapeutic relationships I have with my clients. And even in my closest personal relationships. But there is a clear distinction between those situations and my dealings with the general public, even if that public shares a common interest with me.

All my study, inquiry and work has led me to this idea:

 

We are as addicted to our suffering as we are to sugar, money, sex and power. It becomes the basis for our self-definition, and how we get the attention we so crave.

AND

Pity is a poor, poor substitute for love.

 

 

When we unbind ourselves from the ropes of struggle and suffering, a whole new life can emerge.

One in which we honor our experiences – no matter how gruesome and painful in the moment – as the divine teachers they are.

One in which we know that who we are as divine beings is infinitely greater than anything that may have happened to us.

Where we introduce ourselves, not by the darkness of our tragedy, but by the brightness of our light.

 

What came through for me… “Hi, I’m Pascale. I can’t believe how lucky I am to be here.”

 

What reflects the truth of your divinity? What’s your introduction?

 

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Resources to break the addiction:

* Pema Chodron, a Tibetan Buddhist nun, and one of the most kick-ass human beings on our planet right now, just launched an online program around the concept of Shenpa – being hooked by suffering. They’re giving away the first lesson for free right here.

* My course, Inner Game of Success, introduces some tools that will bring awareness to your habits and reactions.

The post Addiction to Suffering appeared first on Feed Your Soul.

Just two days before a weeklong trip to Los Angeles, I learned that the housing I had arranged was no longer available. I then began a frenzied search to find a place to stay in one of the most popular tourist areas of California. I booked a room using an online rental service that I had used successfully many times before.

I arrived to a half-built house, actively under construction, with a ‘bedroom’ consisting of a bed surrounded by burlap hung from the ceiling. A handful of young men milled about. I was unable to determine whether they were owners, residents or construction crew.

Dust permeated the air and I began wheezing almost immediately.

To prevent myself from going into full-blown anaphylaxis, I decided to hit the streets.

I spent the rest of the day (hours and miles) walking, watching and worrying. I talked to myself, explored possibilities for dealing with my housing situation, and breathed deeply on a beautiful California day.

I stopped for a green juice before heading back to the house. No resolution had come, but I was holding it together. At least I was distracting myself from the panic lying just below my falsely calm exterior.

A quick check of my email brought me a punch of shocking news. It shattered the fragile peace I had created and I burst into tears. (Salty green juice… not great.)

I felt afraid, powerless and defeated. That shaky helplessness of fear quickly gave way to something much more intoxicating.

I got mad.

I was angry that I had not confirmed my housing earlier. I was angry that it was so hard to find a reasonable place to stay. I was angry that I had to interrupt my relaxing summer with this crappy situation. I was angry that I was angry.

I dried my tears and began the long walk back to the house. With every stomp and step, I savored my bad feelings, not wanting to let them go. I kept re-affirming my upsets – naming them, justifying them, offering blame liberally around.

It was not so much that I couldn’t shift my mood – it was more that I didn’t want to. I held righteous indignation firmly in my grasp. Fury was my fuel.

Pausing at a corner, waiting for the light to change, I was joined by a woman. A plain, ordinary, unexceptional woman.

And then she began to disrobe… piece by piece until she stood next to me, completely naked.

The restaurant goers nearby gasped, the motorists gawked, the pedestrians stopped and stared, mouths open.

She turned to me and smiled. Beamed, really.

It was the gaze and grin of a beautiful, loving person delighted to see me. Who happened to be buck-naked.

I could have been…

saddened by her probable mental illness
shocked by her behavior
disgusted by the display

Instead, she made me smile.

The remainder of my walk home, I giggled and grinned like a crazy person. (I fit right in.)

I was given the grand gift of being shown, once again, how anger and indignation are merely a covering to deflect and protect. There is always a deeper truth underneath.

It was time for me to get naked. It was time to strip away the anger to reveal the fear. Then strip away the fear to reveal my soft, bare, vulnerable self.

 

My fleshy friend taught me several great lessons that day.

Rage and resentment are like wearing too tight pants. They choke goodness and happiness.


Stripping down to what lies beneath (if you dig down deep enough) will eventually lead to inherent joyfulness.


There’s no tragedy that a little nudity can’t fix.

 

What are you wearing today that would best be stripped off? Would you like tassels with that?

The post Naked and Unafraid appeared first on Feed Your Soul.

My honey and I just celebrated our first anniversary. It took a full week and involved food that nearly made me cry, oversized martini glasses, and sunset views of Puget Sound.

 

For most of my life I’ve been terrible at romantic relationships. I was the poster child for poor decisions, poor timing and poor communication. I had buffed the whole rest of my life into a shiny gloss, but this area was bleak and pock-marked.

 

No more.

 

My darling gave me the high-level, immersive, intensive course in relationships. (Sort of like an Executive MBA in love.) We have it seriously going on. (Not to brag or anything… but… yeah.)

 

The whole thing left me pondering… why?

Why was this working?

What had I decided and/or done differently?

What did this all mean? (I generally spend a lot of time on this question. An embarrassing amount, really.)

 

Which, of course, led me to making a list and chronicling what I’ve learned so far.

 

Many of our friends are celebrating upwards of 20 (mostly happy) years together. Perhaps they should be writing this, but alas, you’ve got me. So, here goes…

 

Pascale’s Year One Roundup of Love Rules

Swallowing resentments is like swallowing car keys. No good will come of it.
Assume love first. (Assuming evil or wrong-doing first makes for a lot of grumpiness.)
Striking the right balance between similarities and polarities (differences) keeps things sweet AND spicy. (Kung Pao, anyone?)
If you can’t even think of a single good thing about your partner, don’t speak again until you do. Mean words are ouchy.
Find out your love languages. Ask for and offer the right stuff.
Encourage outside interests. It gives you something to share at dinner.
Stop taking it all so personally. (Actually this one applies to anything and everything. Just ask Don Miguel Ruiz.)
The stuff you used to love, that you now hate, just decide to love it again. Or stop being offended by it. Love transcends dirty socks.
Don’t try to create two halves. Be two wholes.

 

 

Lest you think our story is some fairy tale woo woo nonsense, let me add we have the normal dose of health problems, money problems, family shenanigans (teenagers!!), challenging exes and hot buttons. We worship Science and Spirit (respectfully and respectively) and don’t always share the same language.

 

We are…

A cool Caribbean girl and a fiery Latin guy
A talker and a listener, although we keep working on switching that up
An early bird and a night owl
A germaphobe and a sneezer
A city girl and a nature boy
Realistic commitment wrapped in a daydreamy love-fest

 

There it is, folks.

 

I would love to know… what’s working in YOUR relationship?

What keeps the love alive through the daily slog?

What choices feed the soul of your relationship?

 

Sending you a virtual group hug,

Pascale

The post Love Rules appeared first on Feed Your Soul.

My high school physics teacher was hot.

 

He was young, handsome, brilliant and charming. The girls swooned, the guys admired.

 

I’m not sure he could have gotten away with failing us all otherwise.

 

We were the academic elite. The brainiacs, who were on our way to Ivy Leagues, and distinguished careers in science, medicine, and technology.

 

He didn’t believe in coddling us like so many of our other teachers had been doing. His tests were brutal – no multiple choice, no regurgitation of our textbook material, nothing familiar at all. We had to apply what we had learned in a completely new and different situation. It was the ultimate test of our comprehension.

 

High scores were usually about 50%. Most of us were traumatized, having deemed anything lower than a 90% completely unacceptable.

 

I remember jumping up and down to my first 46%, the lowest score of my entire academic career. I had gotten farthest in solving the test problem, and had the highest score in the class. It was an A+, even though I had gotten more than half of it wrong. (Explaining that to my parents… well that’s a story for another day.)

 

In that moment, a brand new relationship to challenge and success emerged. And a new definition of what constitutes achievement: the harder the test, the greater the fulfillment.

 

It’s fun to chronicle triumphs and accomplishments, where we easily and gracefully slide into first. They demonstrate our greatness, our value, our deserving to be loved.

 

It’s less fun to keep a tally of failures, (which often represents self-punishment, judgment, and repression), as well as the ‘successes’ that were bloody and gruesome.

 

I would argue that the catalog of failures and ugly battles should be celebrated just as wildly as that of beautiful victories.

 

Where you have failed is the clearest indicator of your learning edge – that place that lives just outside your comfort zone. It’s usually where you took a risk, went big or dared greatly. THAT is the good stuff, even if the outcome isn’t what you would have chosen.

 

After a certain age, life rarely hands us 100% opportunities. And if it does, it likely means we are playing it safe.

 

Why not choose growth as a measure of success, instead of achievement?

 

What if the Universe didn’t want us to feed our egos by getting it perfectly right, but instead feed our souls by attempting something with no guarantees?

 

Fulfilling potential always includes failure.

 

How did YOU fail today?

 

Share and celebrate.

 

P.S. I still love physics. Thank you Mr. Romita!

The post Redefining Failure appeared first on Feed Your Soul.

Just a few days ago, I went from the surprising heat wave in the Pacific Northwest to the surprising raininess of central New Jersey. It effectively shocked me into summer. I’ve been able to slow down, relish the extra time with my loved ones, and be nourished by all the goodies this season brings. I could have easily held onto the frenzy and disarray of spring had I not been forced into a new perspective.

 

Sometimes we glide into and through transitions, and sometimes we’re dropped into them like a cannonball into a cold pool.

 

Today’s message is brief but powerful, inspired by one of the people who inspires me the most.

 

I was recently on a whining binge about my family, detailing all they had done wrong. My bestie immediately shut me up with one statement:

 

“What I see, Pascale, is an immense amount of good that’s now in the world because your family was crazy. I’d call that a blessing.”

 

Of course I know this… that my struggles forged me into the person I am now. And they will continue to make me better, stronger and more capable. To hear it again, stated so simply and in the middle of a complaint storm, was still disarming.

 

Everything that happens to me is in service to my growth as a fully realized being, even when it feels like I am being torn down.

 

Let yourself be carved and molded by the blades of life, and a work of unspeakable beauty will be revealed. (Tweet that.)

 

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We’ve just finished up the first run of COURSE-CORRECTING: 30 Days to a Better Destination. It was one of the funnest things I’ve done (and the participants liked it too!).

 

Here’s what someone had to say:

 

“This experience could not have come at a more appropriate time in my life.  It allowed me to gain clarity on what’s going on and gave me insight to where I need to go and more importantly “let go”.  I truly appreciate you offering such a wonderful gift!”

Melissa V., Warren, N.J.

 

I’ll be running it again in the fall, and I’d love for you to join me. Find out more information here and get on the early notification list. It can be just the plunge that resets your direction and outlook.

The post Shocks and Resets appeared first on Feed Your Soul.