Deep Girl Summer

Hello, friend.

As we shift into high summer, I hope you are finding ways to enjoy all its pleasures. I’ve certainly been having some gorgeous experiences, memories I’ll treasure. Lately I’m also craving substance, almost as ballast for all this visceral beauty. Less #hotgirlsummer and more #deepgirlsummer. If that resonates, this newsletter is timely for you. 

A business mentor once said to me, “Everyone works in sales.” We all have a boss, even if that is a client or a community. Artists, capitalists, spiritualists. It may be a single individual but we each have some kind of audience that we are trying to communicate with - and to some degree convert. We want them to agree with our perspective, to view us favorably, to appreciate our output. 

It might sound jarringly cynical, but when you explore this concept without judgment it can be enormously clarifying and freeing. Here’s a writing exercise to help: 

Journal prompt: Who are you “selling” to, and what are you selling? Is the product authentic, do you believe in it? Is it a reflection of your best self or a means to an end? What is that end, and did you pick it for yourself? Is it time to update your desired outcome and if so, how might that affect your product / process / output? 

We aren’t engaged in the act of selling just for favorable outcomes, such as a job offer or promotion, financial remuneration, likeability, autonomy, responsibility, respect. Those are  appealing consequences, but scratch the surface and they’re all cloaking the same thing. 

While “giving no fucks” might be a sound bite du jour, based on all the workshops and 1:1 creative coaching sessions I’ve led, most people give one specific fuck. On an essential level, one of our core human desires is quite simple. We all just want to be seen, to be valued. 

If this makes you squirm, I get it. Appearing eager to be liked is beyond uncool, it can seem a bit, well, pathetic. But if you can park your pathos-repellent for a hot second, there’s good stuff to unpack here. The desire to be validated is a basic reflection of our ego, and we all have one. 

Let’s take a peek at the archetype of the rugged individual, the storybook character that is a wanderer, a cowboy (or cowgirl). Being so strong and independent that you’re entirely autonomous is a core wound looking to protect itself, to avoid being rejected. It’s ego in diapers wanting to be picked up, gazed at with love and taken in, but being so afraid this won’t happen (or that the love won’t endure) that they jump out of the crib and run for the hills. The ego says, “I know how to avoid being hurt. I’ll build walls of protection around my heart.” What a tragedy to choose separateness out of fear. 

We all hold multitudes of different archetypes within, each has positive attributes as well as a shadow side. Here’s a set of prompts to help explore this particular one. 

Journal prompt: Where does the “rugged individual” show up in your behavior? Where do you choose separateness as a way to protect yourself? What are you protecting yourself from? Have you ever turned from being seen or loved because the potential downside was too scary? What can you learn from this archetype, what does it have to say to you? And what do you want to say to it, how can you help bring it into balance?  

It’s true, when we’re in the mix with others it’s risky business, you might get hurt. Humans are imperfect and mortal. People can disappoint, let us down, leave. But even so, out of injury comes the opportunity for expansive growth. And I believe that’s what this experiment called life is really all about. That’s the gig. We’re not here to amass one humdinger of an obituary. We’re here to grow, to learn, to love. 

Grieving my father after his sudden death was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. It hurt so badly because of the immensity of my love for him. I felt the grief on an almost cellular level, rattling through my teeth, my bones. At times my grief was so intense I felt like it might burst through my skin because I couldn’t contain it. Sounds absolutely awful, right? But that’s not all it was. It was also incredibly, monumentally beautiful. My heart broke open over and over. I’m no grinch but my capacity for love grew out of my suffering. I wouldn’t trade one iota of that grief for a wall around my heart.  

I was lucky. Despite our complications, my father had seen me, loved me, he had validated my worth to him as both a daughter and a thoughtful person. The loss of all of that was part of what made his departure so hard. I felt like a balloon with one less string tethering me to the earth. Which brings us back to the need to be seen, and why it can be so scary. 

Yes, I’m inviting you to look at some hard things. Sometimes journaling is about yummy good vibes. Other days it’s about diving in deep. Whether you’re ready now or want to circle back to this later, I hope you’ll “bookmark” my note and explore it whenever the time is right for you. The opportunity that lies therein is immense. 

In Swellness,