It is our third summer here at Live it to the Full, and we (Aleece & Amy) have decided it’s time for a little hiatus. Both of us have big personal projects in the works, and we’re taking a little time off from our endeavors here to focus on fullness in our own lives.

Looking back on the past years, I (Aleece) am so grateful for the community that we have built here. Although I spent most of my time behind-the-scenes, my eyes have been wide open. I’ve brainstormed with our amazing teachers, I’ve fielded questions from our brave and lovely students, and I’ve been able to survey most of the materials. So much truth has been shared in appropriate measure, and it has sometimes been gentle and sometimes been fierce, but has always seemed timely. I am so proud of what Amy and I are doing here.

I hope you all have a great summer, and I look forward to connecting again soon. Let’s do brave and lovely things.

Live it to the Full is offering instructor Amanda Page’s two courses around the theme of “home” in succession. Starting in May, you’ll have a chance to take the four week Home is a Hard Lesson and the two week Home is a Hard Lesson, Part 2 courses, individually or as a bundle.

Amanda put together this list of Frequently Asked Questions to explain more about the courses.

Why did you create a course about “home?”

Because I’m obsessed with it. I didn’t see it clearly at first. Or for years. I was always working my hometown into my creative writing – either the setting or a particular character. It wasn’t until I moved back, after living in different states for several years, that I started piecing together a collection of essays with the tentative title, “Home is a Hard Lesson.” Those essays were never written, though. But I had a list of ideas. I was working with Live it to the Full to create a different course, and it just would not take shape. I had a vague and foggy thought about turning that old list of potential essays into a new list of writing prompts. I got excited. I thought, “Surely, other people feel the same way about where they’re from.” I mean, I’d had plenty of conversations with creative people who had complicated relationships with where they’re from. And it happened. You know how they say, “Write the book you want to read?” Well, I essentially created the class I wanted to take.

Who should take the course?

Anyone who wants to spend some time thinking about where they grew up. And anyone who wants to tell a few family stories. Writers. People who want to write. Readers. Creative people. Curious people. People who are just starting to explore their creative natures. People who know their creative natures well. You.

What can I expect from the course?

Every weekday, you’ll receive an email with short piece about my experience and then the prompt that was created from it. You’ll then post your response/piece to the Comments section, where other participants and I can read it and provide feedback. Toward the end of the course, you stop writing daily pieces and concentrate on writing something longer. On the last day, you’ll email me your final essay, and I’ll give you feedback on it + suggestions on where to send it if you want to publish it.

How does it work?

You receive daily prompts. You post your writing in the Comments section of the page. It’s all done in WordPress, and is super simple to navigate. If you have any trouble, you can email your instructor and/or the Live it to the Full team.

What kind of feedback will I receive?

I keep it helpful and specific. If I notice that something needs to be developed into a scene. I’ll suggest it. Moments that need clarified, I’ll point them out. I also call out awkward sentence structures and offer ways to revise them. Sometimes, something in the piece will call out to me as a possible title, and I’ll tell you. Also, if the structure needs work, if paragraphs need rearranged or the ending needs developed, I’ll offer ways to do that.

How often do you give feedback?

Daily. I usually wait until after 9pm EST to login and give feedback. That gives participants time to read the prompt and write a response. The idea is to write daily. If you miss a prompt and go back and post something, I probably won’t see it unless you email me and ask me to. I don’t receive any kind of notification that things were posted, and I don’t go back through all the prompts searching for ones I didn’t get to. If you post something late, though, and you want feedback, just email me to let me know. I’m happy to look at it if I know it’s there.

Does it take a lot of time to participate in this course?

Because you want to respond to the prompts daily, I’m going to say, “No.” You can devote an hour a day, or you can devote far far less time. You can read the prompt and respond immediately or you can chew on it and post later (preferably by 9pm). You’ll want to spend a little time reading through the work of other participants, just to get a feel for what others are doing with the prompts.

You’ve been told, “You can’t go home again,” and yet you know deep in your heart of hearts that, “There’s no place like home.” Well, in “Home is a Hard Lesson: Writing the conflict between who you are and where you’re from,” you’ll get to go home. You’ll get to share with other writers all the reasons why there’s no place like it. Registration is open. Class starts May 6th and runs through May 31st.

You’ll have a week to catch your breath before starting the companion course, “Home is a Hard Lesson, Part 2: Writing the relationship between who you are and the family you’re from.” For two weeks, you’ll explore the family folklore. Start writing on June 10th and wrap it up on June 21st. By the way, you can take the two week course (Part 2) without taking the month long course first. It can stand alone.

BUT, if you’re feeling brave and needing a writing boost, you are in luck. Register for both and receive a mighty discount. If you take both courses, you’ll be set to produce 22 pieces. That. Is. Impressive. 

This time around, instructor Amanda Page is offering all kinds of incentives for participants to polish up and send out their work. You’ll be receiving lots of feedback, and at the end, you’ll receive a list of markets to which you can submit your completed essays. Submit final essays to Amanda at the end of the course to receive a 15-minute phone consultation. Send your stuff out to publications and receive neat, writerly, letterpress gifts.

You’ve got stories to write and Amanda Page wants to read them. Got questions about how it works or what type of feedback you’ll receive? Email Amanda at ap@amanda-page.com.

by Phyllis Mathis

Some souls seem to navigate faith shifts more easily than others. They believe, they grow, they change practices and ideas as needed, smoothly and naturally.

Some of us have a harder time of it.

Yeah, I’m one of those. I had a hard time of it.

I came into faith in a dramatic, life-altering way. My faith meant everything to me, and I invested my heart, soul, identity, and future into it. For decades. So when my faith began to shift in a significant way, it rocked my world.

My faith system collapsed for reasons too complicated and numerous to write about here, but when it did, my whole life turned upside down.

I felt lost.
I felt sad and lonely.
I felt deeply angry. Angry for years.
And I felt profoundly afraid.

I had no guides or mentors I could trust, just a few friends who had exited their faith systems around the same time as I did. Most of them seemed to get better much sooner than I.

Then someone told me she thought I must have had my heart broken at a very deep level during the shift.

That one bit of validation helped me immensely, and it enabled me to process the layers of my grief in a compassionate way.

I started to come out of the fog. In 2010 I teamed up with Kathy Escobar and Karl Wheeler for a weekend we called Walking Wounded, a live event designed to support those who were having a hard time navigating their own faith shifts and negative church experiences.

From that weekend Kathy and I created the online version of Walking Wounded: Hope for Those Hurt by Church, hosted here at Live it to the Full. Our purpose is to create a safe, no-agenda space for those who find themselves similarly disoriented and heartbroken, either by a significant shift in their faith, a negative experience inside their faith system, or a hurtful exit from their faith community.

A course, because we discovered some things that can help ease the pain.
Safe, because no one should be hurt while trying to overcome their hurts.
No agenda, because no one has the the right to tell you what to believe or how you should feel.

Walking Wounded: Help for Those Hurt by Church begins March 4th for 4 weeks. Please join us.

Kelly Barton

by Kelly Barton

So often, the day after the first day, so many ask me, prod me to declare my value. My resolve for the new year. Several years ago, I just decided to flat out refuse to answer. Not to be difficult, simply because I realized it just wasn’t for me.

So often, day after day, as the year turns to a new year, I have felt this itch. Years of striving to be what others told me I must be and many times just thinking that I had to be like the norm. As the year turned to the new year, that itch continued to just bug me.

What I have realized as I am rounding into this 49th year is this one thing: fresh starts are a beautiful thing. Not to be defined by others, only to be embraced by me. A simple tool that I can use to re-adjust, redo and continue on my path in a comfortable manner, making my life just what I want it to be.

Of course, this sounds rather simplistic, doesn’t it? Sometimes, you might see my tear streaked face or my jaw clenched with stress or anticipation and
quite often I question my antics. But days like today when I sit with a friend creating as we chat about the world, our pixies, and maybe as I look at her, I see the face of a warrior girl battling cancer with such a zest and stride, I quickly return to this FRESH START. We each define what our journey will be.

I love the idea of a fresh start. It is like a new pair of new socks. Your feet are worn and rather chilly and you slide those new soft socks on over your toes and this feeling of happiness comes over your body, like being wrapped up in the secure arms of your grandma as a little girl. Yep, that is what a fresh start does for me.

So for now, day after day, as each year turns new I make it about the FRESH START. I continue on my path, and when I get off track by focusing on what I am not, I remind myself that I love being me (most days). That I am right where I am meant to be and that this is my journey, no matter what year, and I have the wheel.

Fresh start. My way.

Kelly Barton is a girl who believes in the everyday simple. She loves sharing empowering stories through each girl she paints.

She is a mixed media artist, designer who owns a laugh that sounds like Betty Rubble and  a love for the word d.a.n.g.

A girl filled to the brim with color.

The girl next door.

Kelly has recently relaunched her Etsy shop. Check it out here.

She blogs here.

She collaborates with Liz Lamoreux here.

She dreams about vintage campers here.

She shares her life in pictures here.

by Amanda Page

I always feel great relief when New Year’s rolls around. It’s my favorite holiday. As the eve approaches, I feel grateful that I made it through another year. I usually spend a little time reflecting, measuring up what I did during those 365 days on the planet. And I evaluate what I could do better. Then, I resolve to do better.

I must have asked fifty people over the past holiday season if they make New Year’s Resolutions. A few people scoffed at the word “resolution.” A few others said they like to set intentions instead. But, over half of the people I asked gave a similar reply. “No,” they said. “I don’t want to hate myself two weeks into the New Year when I don’t keep them.”

That answer broke my heart. Every time. People are either not trusting themselves or they’re not challenging themselves. I’m guilty of this. And it’s one of the things I resolve to change. Sometimes I don’t start something because I’m afraid I won’t have the energy to keep it up. I think I’ll be able to rally to get started on a project or goal and then burn out, lose momentum. I’m afraid that two weeks in, I won’t keep it up.

In that way, I want for a new beginning. I want to start a life in which I’m consistent with my energy, my productivity.

It wasn’t until I asked someone about resolutions and was told that they don’t make resolutions because, “…every day begins a New Year,” that my sadness alleviated. Essentially, every day is a day to resolve to change. If you notice that you haven’t been keeping up momentum, then you can choose that day to rally.

Maybe it is the idea of the New Year that scares some of us off. It’s a lot of pressure to put on ourselves, to make big changes that are supposed to last all year, if not forever. Or maybe we’ve lost track of the real meaning of the word “resolution.” We’ve made it synonymous with “goal.” They’re not the same thing. A resolution takes resolve and a goal requires ambition, which can be exhausting. It can be exhausting unless we resolve to conserve our energy for the pursuit of that goal.

I read recently that there’s no such thing as a “new beginning.” We bring our pasts into every new endeavor. I believe that. But I also believe that we can resolve to be better than our pasts. We can choose to do something different. We can make that choice any day of any year. And taking action on that choice IS a new beginning.

The desire for new beginnings is big, robust, consuming. The message to “change your life” is so very popular at the moment. It’s almost intrusive enough that it makes me understand the aversion to resolutions. And I think that there’s also fear that in making them, we’re saying to ourselves that we’re not enough, that we need to change, that we need to fix something broken.

There’s a line to walk. One of trust. Trust in the self that you don’t need a new beginning and trust in the self that if you want to make a change, you can. Every day begins a new year.

Amanda Page is a writer, part-time professor of English and private writing instructor. She earned her Master of Fine Arts in creative writing from the University of Alabama (Roll Tide). Sometimes, she teaches the art of the personal essay to gifted and talented students. She was a founding member of the L. A. Writers Group (.com) in Los Angeles, California. She now lives in Columbus, Ohio, where, according to a local reflexologist and energy worker, people come to “get their sh** together.” She’s currently working on a novel. She’s obsessed with the majestic decline of her hometown. And, she writes a lot of essays about dogs, too.

Check out Amanda at her web site Amanda-Page.com and follow her on Twitter too!

by Jolie Guillebeau

As a painter, I depend on light. It’s the thing that helps me define what I need to see. Light points the way. It shows me what to prioritize in the painting. I can use it to create an entirely different mood or composition. Light makes things clearer.
Light seemed like the natural word for me this year. Every year, I choose a word that helps me define my goals for the next twelve months. And for me, 2013 is the year of Light.

Maybe it’s because I wrapped up my biggest painting project ever on New Year’s Eve, or just the fresh start of the New Year, but so far I’ve taken the word to mean “Lighten Up.”

2012 was a tough year over here in many ways, but when I made a list of things that went right, I was surprised to discover myself still writing after three pages. So many things in our lives are good, if we have time to stop and notice them. But while other things were going right, I was still facing some big challenges. Like breast cancer biopsies (yes, biopsies– that’s plural), family angst and my own personal drama that kept telling me I was doomed before I even began. Sound familiar?

So this year, I’m letting go of things that have weighed me down for a long time, even though some of those things are hard to release. Like friendships, or thought patterns, or habits. I’m letting go of drama and fear and working pretty hard to avoid picking them back up.

It’s been an adjustment, and I’m only a few days in to the New Year. But I am feeling lighter. There’s a little more space in my head and on my schedule. There’s a little more light in my eyes.

The new year is always a fresh start for me — I love writing out my hopes and dreams for the year. Here’s to a year filled with light for all of us. Happy 2013.

–

Our stories shape us. The things that happen, the details of that Christmas party in 1984 connect with who we are today. And painting for me is about finding that connection. See, I had a crazy childhood. And for a long time, that was the story that shaped me. But after a few years working in Africa, I started to re-frame my story because I encountered other stories, and realized how lucky I was even in all the crazy.

So I searched for happy memories from my childhood. And I found them in toys.  Those paintings became part of my new story. As a way to sort the crazy. Those paintings remind me of things I’m grateful for. Like a childhood that still offered a chance to play.

So I paint as another way to tell my story. And I paint everyday.

When I’m not painting, I’m experimenting with recipes, or knitting, or yes– reading stories. I create my story now in Portland, Oregon with my husband Chris– who is the best listener.

You can find Jolie’s paintings and stories in your inbox here.

by Kathy Escobar

If you’re like me, it’s really easy to get stuck in the past. We think of all of the “could’ve’s” “should’ves” and “would’ves” in our lives. Things we wish we had tried but never got around to it. Parts of our stories that felt like big detours. Dreams we wanted to pursue but fear got in the way. Goals that we never quite attained. Our well-meaning intentions that slipped away with each passing day.

If we’re not careful, the could’ve, should’ve, would’ves will steal our future.

They keep us looking back instead of forward.

It’s a tricky practice, but it is incredibly freeing to acknowledge that there is absolutely nothing we can do about the past. We cannot turn back time. The past is done. It’s over. The good, the bad, the ugly are all part of our history.

What we do have control over, however, is how we want to spend our energy, time, heart, and resources in the future.

The could’ves, should’ves, and would’ves can’t take our future unless we let them.

A brand new year awaits and as hard as it is for me to do, I am refusing to invest energy in looking at the laundry list of things I could’ve, should’ve, and would’ve done in 2012. The pull there is so strong, and I realize as I write this some of you may be saying “yeah, but I can’t just forget them.” I realize that and if somehow acknowledging them helps, then feel free to make your list of all the things you didn’t do in 2012.

But once you do, I hope you can bid it farewell, kiss it goodbye, and burn it in the fire because there’s absolutely nothing you can do to change it.

Tomorrow awaits.
And new possibilities for the year ahead have a fighting chance.

My practice for January is to think through the year ahead with honesty, intention, and hopeful realism (for me that means not setting goals that I am already quite sure will end up on my could’ve, should’ve, would’ve list because they are just too much to bite off at the time given my circumstances).

I’m trying to simplify but also clarify.

For me, the questions I am asking myself for the year ahead are:

• What is one impractical but “I really want to do it” thing I am going to do this year?
• What is one new practice I want to incorporate into my week that will feed my soul?
• What is one class or retreat or event I really want to participate in for 2013?
• What is one project, no matter how big or small, I really hope to finish this year?
• What is one relationship I really want to foster in a more intentional way?

I might not do every single one of these the way I had hoped 12 months from now, but I know this: Moving forward is much better than torturing ourselves by always looking back.

Happy New Year! Here’s to leaving the could’ve, should’ve, and would’ves where they belong – in last year not this new one.

Kathy Escobar co-pastors the Refuge, an eclectic faith community in North Denver dedicated to those on the margins of life and faith (www.therefugeonline.org). She journeys with people in hard places as a spiritual director, teacher, and group facilitator. A Pepperdine University graduate, she also has a Masters degree in Management/Organizational Development and a Certificate in Evangelical Spiritual Guidance from Denver Seminary. Kathy is the author of Down We Go: Living into the Wild Ways of Jesus (Civitas Press, 2011).

by Jen Lee

photo by Jen Lee

January through March tends to be a difficult stretch for me. The short, dark days. The cold, dry air–these things aggravate my body, for sure. I used to rail against these winter months, insisting they be no different than the rest.

But I’m learning how to let the seasons work their way into my living and working rhythms, how to dance with them instead of fight against them. Now I know that I will want burrowing-in-kind of work to do, cozy and warm in my studio. I rest and dream of adventures and outings for warmer months, thankful to not be on-the-go all year long.

I care for body with hot drinks, warm baths and plenty of rest. I make sure my skin stays hydrated and take my vitamins and supplements. These things help so much.

And I take a cue from nature. The trees look dormant above ground, but below ground, the roots reach deep. I trade outward activities for inner journeys, like the one Phyllis and I invite you to join this February–it’s this kind of soul excavation and integration that allows me to bring new elements of myself into the new year ahead.

My mantras in these months remind me to move with ease and gentleness. To trust interior mysteries and dark graces. To be still and reach deep.

Jen Lee is a publisher, producer and a performer in New York City’s storytelling scene. She has been featured on the Peabody Award-winning Moth Radio Hour, and in The Best of The Moth: Volume 15. She is a sought-after mentor and guide for workshops and retreats unleashing creative expression, and her private Story Mentoring clients range from authors to executives.

by Phyllis Mathis

I love beginnings: the fresh box of crayons, the blank page, the exciting possibilities and giddy dreams of a new year.

It’s the middles and the endings I have trouble with.

Perhaps it’s because I’ve never been a straight-line, top-down, lead-from-the-head type of person, no matter how many years I’ve labored (and failed!) to become so.

So I have no resolutions, no measurable goals, no workout schedules or Weight Watchers menus to manage this January. And I certainly have no clever tips or organizing strategies to offer you as you journey with us here at Live it to the Full.

Sorry.

But I do have a few things to offer, just in case you’re like me – in love with new beginnings, but prone to wander from well-intentioned action steps.

1. A challenge. Listen differently this year. The analytical mind is wonderful, but in matters of the soul, it’s meant to serve, not to lead. This new year, turn down the volume on the voices in your head, and tune into the deeper faculties of your soul. Learn to listen to your intuition, your body, your instincts, and your heart. And with these, begin to listen to some other things as well: silence, nature, senses, and spirit. This will set you on your true path. Trust me on this.
2. An opportunity. February 4th through March 1st, the incomparable Jen Lee and I will be teaching our first online class together here at Live it to the Full. The Iconic Self Online Experience will help you listen to yourself in a way that will transform your soul. Please join us!
3. A blessing. This, from John O’Donohue:

For a New Beginning

In out-of-the-way places of the heart,
Where your thoughts never think to wander,
This beginning has been quietly forming,
Waiting until you were ready to emerge.

For a long time it has watched your desire,
Feeling the emptiness growing inside you,
Noticing how you willed yourself on,
Still unable to leave what you had outgrown.

It watched you play with the seduction of safety
And the gray promises that sameness whispered,
Heard the waves of turmoil rise and relent,
Wondered would you always live like this.

Then the delight, when your courage kindled,
And out you stepped onto new ground,
Your eyes young again with energy and dream,
A path of plenitude opening before you.

Though your destination is not yet clear
You can trust the promise of this opening:
Unfurl yourself into the grace of beginning
That is at one with your life’s desire.

Awaken your spirit to adventure;
Hold nothing back, learn to find ease in risk;
Soon you will be home in a new rhythm,
For your soul senses the world that awaits you.

Happy New Year, everyone!