Tag Archives: Spirituality

Book Review – The Big Leap

AI Generated image prompted on Gencraft.com by Rebekah Marshall.

According to Gay Hendricks, PH.D., the only problem we need to solve is the Upper Limit Problem. He believes all avenues of discontent in life flow from the ways in which we limit ourselves or allow ourselves to be limited without breaking into our Zones of Genius. He posits that a universal human trait is the tendency to sabotage ourselves and others when artificial upper limits are exceeded.

The barriers we and society put in place are often unconsciously constructed by our upbringing, religion, politics, and education, but we buy into them and keep the scaffolding exactly where it’s always been. Phrases like, “She’s getting above her raising,” “He thinks he’s better than us,” “They aim too high,” “She’s greedy to want more,” “He needs to be brought down a peg,” “They didn’t do anything to earn that position,” etc. These aren’t phrases from his book, but common enough phrases in society that his hypothesis feels like commentary on most communities I know.

Whatever the complex social issues surrounding the lack of support for growth, he suggests there are ways to push beyond and live our best lives while still loving and supporting others. Instead of having a mindset of lack—lack of time, lack of money, lack of energy, lack of ideas, lack of community—we recognize that we are the creators of our realities and do our utmost to tap into our own genius.

The first step is to recognize the barriers and make conscious decisions to overcome them:

1. We are fundamentally flawed and don’t deserve success.

2. We are disloyal to expand beyond the expected norms of our families of origin.

3. We are a burden to others.

4. We must dim our brilliance, so we don’t outshine others.

Once we have expelled these faulty concepts from our thinking, we must find what our gifts are, find ways to express them, dislodge the notion that time is not on our side, and bring our best selves to the world. Only then will we be fulfilled in our relationships, our careers, our finances, and our spirituality.

I am intrigued, especially by his idea that time comes from within us, or at least the concept of time. It is only perception of time that makes each moment feel gruesome or fabulous. I’m sure he would agree that this concept does not apply in all circumstances because there are situations outside of our control and factors in this world that force time constraints on people against their will.

Disclaimers would have been appreciated that some of these deep concepts might not apply to people in the midst of horrific situations beyond their power, like war, extreme poverty, abuse, trauma, and other life-altering dilemmas that can create struggle. But given basic needs met, semi-peaceful conditions, and non-traumatic circumstances, his ideas are worth considering.

I for one commit to recognizing language of lack related to money, time, energy, etc. Instead of saying, “I can’t afford that,” or “I don’t have money for that,” I want to say, “I can buy that if I save for it,” or “I’m choosing to spend my money on something else.” It is a choice to reframe my language. Instead of saying, “I don’t have time to do that,” or “I wish there were more hours in the day,” I want to say, “I’m choosing to spend my time on other priorities,” or “I have plenty of time to do everything I am meant to do today.” The one I need to work the most on is energy. With chronic health issues, I am very aware of my energy levels and am known to complain about lack of energy. But Instead of saying, “I don’t have the energy to do this,” or “I wish I had more energy for x,y,z,” I want to say, “I have enough energy to do these things today, so I am going to prioritize them,” or “I have exactly the amount of energy I need and then I will take a nap to recharge.”

This self-development journey is fascinating. However much I learn, I always discover something more to expand my growth. The Big Leap is absolutely worth the read, but I recommend tackling it when things are at a fairly stable place in life. I would not have been willing to hear his ideas when I was at the apex of pain, in the middle of my divorce, during a crisis when my kids were teenagers, or when I was working 7 days a week to survive with no end in sight. These are concepts I am willing to consider with all bases covered and the privilege and opportunity to navel gaze and ponder things like expanding into my zone of genius.

Hendricks, Gay. The Big Leap, Harper Collins, 2009.

Silver Fox

The 1st image I ever saw of David on OkCupid.

One of the things I noticed first about my future husband was his unaffected demeanor and his willingness to be openly fascinated by a new thought. There was no pretense, no attempt to impress, and certainly no vanity. I am still pleased by these qualities he embodies. He is who he is and that is that.

The people I want to surround myself with must share these characteristics or at least strive to work toward some semblance of authenticity. A friend of mine is writing a beautiful short story about a fictionalized Nefertiti whose companion silver fox’s tail bristles at the slightest hint of insincerity. When I read her rough draft, I was struck by the realization that something within me resonates with that fox—a bristling, like sand in my shoe, an unfamiliar noise in the dark, a mis-buttoned shirt, or one little dead gnat in my soup. Sure, I can fish the gnat out and consider eating the soup because I love the soup and don’t want to waste the soup, and the dead gnat is not that big of a deal. However, it is a hurdle my brain must get past to push through and move on and act as though nothing of consequence has happened. I know. I can’t unknow.

We are all flawed and have moments that we regret in our interactions with others or our representation of ourselves to the world, but my biggest regrets all stem from times in my life that I was not being authentic with myself. The lowest lows where I had bona fide breakdowns with lifechanging consequences were when I was lying to myself about who I was, what I believed, or what I was willing to tolerate. Living a fractured life, accepting unbearable circumstances for the sake of a belief system or other people’s judgment will result in disaster.

It is scary to say out loud that our personal ideologies no longer line up with our current realities. It is terrifying to admit to people who we love that we must set boundaries with them for our own sanity, but we owe it to ourselves to speak the truth in love and accept that there will be consequences for speaking that truth. And I have come to know in my half a century of living that, though some of the fallout is painful and chaotic, when the dust settles, I am better for it.

When living in authenticity, I can find a gentle, kind, sincere soul to partner with on a dating website full of toads. I can leave my career that I invested over 30 years of education and work into. I can leap into a new, scary field and become the writer I’ve always said I wanted to be. I can develop a spiritual life that nourishes me and others around me. And I can be ok in the midst of the turmoil that is spiraling around us all due to geopolitical craziness that sucks us easily into the madness. I don’t know the right answer to everything, anything sometimes, but I know that when my silver fox tail bristles at the inauthenticity of the moment, I will stop and listen and possibly change course.

Rebekah Marshall @Home Studio

My Sweet Aunt Mary

(Poem 361 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/DKQMGQ

My sweet Aunt Mary would absolutely say that it is not a waste of time to spend all day trying to count the leaves on a single tree. What greater way to spend one’s time than analyzing each forked twig and bough, penciling on paper the exact tally for limb 27.4? All my powers of focus, balance, strength, and intellect are at play, and Amelia (that’s the name of the tree in question) absolutely adores the attention. It’s been years since we spent an entire day together and we’ve missed one another immensely. I may or may not complete the task, but that is not important. The act of singular wonder amidst nature’s display of resilience is the thing.

My dear friend Mary would also understand my anger at certain words when they will not appear in my mind’s screen, how my brain screams words like resentment and frustration and hate at the missing word, but what I really mean is, please come back, I miss you, I need you, don’t leave me.

Mary and I know we’re not invited, but still sort of wish we could experience being a whirling dervish because there’s something in the spinning magic of their dance that speaks to our souls.

Once, when I was a bird, I flew over Mary as she took her morning walk along the tree line. I waited to see if she would notice me, but she seemed lost in thought, or maybe prayerful. She chuckled to herself, as though laughing at her own joke, then stopped to study something in the dirt.

When I grow up, I want to be Mary’s dog Percy. Oh, to be loved with such devotion and cared for in my old age, as Percy was. To be accepted, encouraged, admired, and appreciated just for being me—stinky, silly, lazy, and a devoted friend. To sit all day and listen to Mary chat and read, napping with my head in her lap as she scratches my ears, saved from rough beginnings by the kindness of that gracious lady. And when I died, I would not argue about whether or not God made me. I would know.

@Home Studio – 361st poem of the year (After reading Mary Oliver’s book of poems A Thousand Mornings.)

Oliver, Mary. A Thousand Mornings, Penguin Books, 2012.

Runner ups for the Mary Oliver photos to accompany my poem:

Becoming Supernatural

(Poem 320 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/HkITfM

To become supernatural
one must eat oranges
and play with kaleidoscopes,
listen to the blood pumping
through moving veins
and feel the pulse
in tips of toes.

If the past tries to creep
like a lingering rumor
up the brain stem,
one must unscrew
the scalp and release
the humors
to the heavens and beyond.

When the future
feels like a memory
of a once-forgotten story
told right now,
someone has reached
the pinnacle,
or started over.

Either way,
the electricity that hums
from an unknown source
downloads
unknowable truths
into highways of blood
and bone.

@Home Studio – 320th poem of the year (While reading Becoming Supernatural by Dr. Joe Dispenza.)

Dispenza, Dr. Joe, Becoming Supernatural, Hay House, 2017.

Runner ups for the Supernatural photos to accompany my poem:

Washing the Knife

(Poem 264 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/xNDyau

Maybe the way
I wash this knife
with precision,
erasing the past
with friction,
soap, and molecules
is in some little way
the meaning of life.

Maybe scraping
the crusty
remnants of drippage
on countertops
until the rag slides smooth
is its own reward
somehow.

Maybe the fact
that hot
water melts
butter residue
from a dish,
inviting it to slip
effortlessly from its former
state
and find freedom
in movement
is the most real
thing I know,
or think
I know,
or want
to know
because knowing
is somehow solid,
purposeful, sure,
and I suspect
that I know
nothing,
or there is nothing
to know,
or knowing
means nothing,
thus,
washing a knife
is the meaning
of life.

@Home Studio – 264th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Washing Dishes photos to accompany my poem (AI had a hard time with this one):

Nothing

(Poem 220 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/FPW14a

The antithesis of everything
one can logically consider,
should be nothing at all.
Casanova of Venetia would
argue that such is absurd,
as everything is one with faith.
But nothingness as a concept
of not-being is of value as a
consideration, even if nearly
impossible for us to conceive.
Even Einstein struggled to
believe something so absolute
could exist, since spacetime
renders past and future illusory.
Could it be a state of mind like
Nirvana or wu wei, or even
the permanence of Tao that
cannot be described or named?
Is it the chasm that forms if
we reject God, or the very idea
that such a thing is possible?
Calculate as we might with all
our might, we never reach zero.

@Home Studio – 220th poem of the year (After reading an article on Wikipedia about “Nothing.”)

“Nothing” Wikipedia. Page last edited 25 July, 2024, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nothing.

Runner ups for the Nothing photos to accompany my poem:



Impossible Peace  House of the Dragon

(Poem 197 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/BcZSjF

The Hatfields and McCoys-like family feud
that was the Brackens and Blackwoods
paled in comparison to the bodies used
for fodder by those fighting for the throne.
The Dance of Dragons has begun in earnest,
despite the unspoken awareness by all that
bloodshed of kin by kin is a most appalling
form of violence to the gods of their ancestors.
While the men gnash their teeth, and their
dragons chomp at the bit, the women kneel
before alters of stone lighting candles and
whisper of impossible peace, the intent of
kings, and the wishes for undoing wrongs.

@Home Studio – 197th poem of the year (after watching House of the Dragon Season 2 Episode 3.)

Condal, Ryan and George R. R. Martin, creators. House of the Dragon. HBO Entertainment and Warner Bros., 2024.

Runner ups for the Queen Prayers photos to accompany my poem:

Lesson 19 The Way of the Wizard

(Poem 193 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

“Look upon desire as the willingness to receive what God wants to give.” – Merlin, The Way of the Wizard    

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/N7hzab

The only way to escape perpetual
immaturity is to ache to go beyond
the boundaries we have set for
ourselves as acceptable, normal,
safe, and comfortable in the now.
We must stretch outward through
the discomfort of reaching for what
we do not yet recognize as reality
to grasp ahold of our destiny and
allow desire to materialize again
and again and again until we see
that the direct path to God has
been our longing all along in the
form of wishes and needs we did
not even understand as yearning
for the perfection of pure love.

@Erica’s – 193rd poem of the year

Chopra, Deepak. The Way of the Wizard: Twenty Spiritual Lessons for Creating the Life You Want. New York, United States of America, Harmony Books, 1995, pp.129-135.

Runner ups for the Arthur crown photos to accompany my poem:

Ghost Whisperer

(Poem 176 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/KxTmAS

Beyond the veil of the living
is the plain of the between,
where people linger after death
unable to be seen.

Only those who can’t let go
reside in this murky space,
but each lost soul has a story to tell
if someone can show them grace.

A Ghost Whisperer is sometimes summoned,
a spirit’s only hope,
communing with the voiceless ones
to help the living cope.

For usually, those who remain
feel burdened by an unexplained weight.
No sense can be made of their grief
or their loved ones’ undetermined fate.

If a satisfactory resolution
can be settled upon at last,
the ghost will finally release their hold
and accept that they have passed.

@Home Studio – 176th poem of the year (Inspired by the television show The Ghost Whisperer.)

Hewitt, Jennifer Love, Ghost Whisperer, Sander/Moses, CBS, 2005-2010.

Runner ups for the Ghost Whisperer photos to accompany my poem:

Lesson 18 The Way of the Wizard

(Poem 175 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

“At the level of the ego, we struggle to solve our problems. Spirit sees that struggle is the problem.” – The Way of the Wizard    

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/7XIJKd  https://gencraft.ai/p/bhZDFJ

The madman who lived in a
hut deep in Camelot forest
was named Will for a reason.
He claimed to have no king,
despite Arthur ordering him
to come forth and explain.
According to his wife, grief
had walled him up after his
son died in a tragic accident.
The man named Will decided
to perish unless God himself
appeared and made plain
the reason for suffering.
Arthur sat all night speaking
with the man, who he felt
closer to than anyone else
in his kingdom, for he keenly
felt the suffering of his people
the poor, the sick, the burdened.
Arthur shared the wisdom
Merlin taught him, rather than
struggle against evil, realize
that it does not actually exist.
We create heaven and hell
with our own will, invent duality,
evil and good, light and shadow,
chase our tails to our own
detriment and create despair.
We must allow our will to be
free to choose to reject this
duality and permit unity to be
born in our hearts and minds,
rather than sealing ourselves
up in a hut deep in the woods
of grief where we await our deaths.

@Genuine Joe’s – 175th poem of the year

Chopra, Deepak. The Way of the Wizard: Twenty Spiritual Lessons for Creating the Life You Want. New York, United States of America, Harmony Books, 1995, pp.123-128.

Runner ups for the Forest Hut photos to accompany my poem: