Kelly Epperson's Blog, page 14

Why I Love Pink

Why I Love PINK

I’ve always loved the color pink, in all its various hues. My teenage girl bedroom was hot pink. My first starter home bathroom was romantic soft pink complete with roses and lace. My toenails are a purpley-pink.

Shocking pink. Victorian pink. Sparkly pink. Pink walls. Pink toenails. Pink lips. Pink paper. Pink pens. Many shades, many uses, lots of love.

It’s not just the color pink that I adore; I dig Pink the singer too.

What I love about her, Alecia Moore who became known to the world as Pink, is her simultaneous toughness and vulnerability. She is bold and she is not afraid to cry. She might drink, swear, and pack a mean punch, yet she has a soft searching side. She doesn’t apologize for who she is. I respect that.

The clip of Pink with tears streaming down her cheeks when she first met Dick Clark endeared her to me. Dreams coming true still make a girl cry, even a tough chick.

Her music in the beginning of her career didn’t get my notice. I wasn’t getting any party started except for my kids and their grade school pals. I met Pink in 2006, in a hotel room in Europe on German MTV. The video was “Who Knew” and her voice and look and portrayal mesmerized me. I’ve been a fan ever since.

I like her rawness, her openness, her putting herself out there.  Her songs are to the bone honest and when she wants to, Pink belts it out with the best of the power ballad divas. She can be brash and have a potty mouth, and she can wear her heart on her sleeve like nobody’s business.

Pink continues to push herself artistically. Her latest performance on the AMA awards was the talked-about highlight of the night. The song and its choreography were slow and dramatic; her ability as a dancer and acrobat is Broadway-worthy.

That’s the gist of it for me: She inspires me.

She is still, always, exorcising her demons, as she says, and she continues to barrel through her fears. Pink tries to top herself with that being the goal, showing herself that she can exceed her own expectations. When is the last time you pushed yourself or wowed yourself?

I’ve seen footage of her live shows and she goes all out. I’m a ticket holder for her upcoming tour and I expect big production numbers with lots of costumes, antics, style, and dazzling numbers. I have high expectations. I am confident she’ll come through.

Who inspires you and why? Do you like someone’s style? What is it that grabs you?

What about you? What do you want for yourself? Do you have standards for yourself? Do you have goals? Dreams? Do you do new things? Do you let yourself be vulnerable? Do you let yourself be bold? Do you have confidence you’ll come through?

What is that you desire for this coming year? Get out an index card and write it down. In ink. “Write that book.” “Run a 5K.” “Start my business.” “Say yes.”

Dreams do come true. They also require a little effort on your part. Set some high expectations for yourself and have confidence that you will wow yourself. Take one action today. What are you waiting for? It’s time to get this party started.

Classy and Fabulous

[image error]Coco Chanel said, “A girl should be two things. Classy and fabulous.” Let that be your guiding principle for the new year. Start now.

Classy and fabulous is in the eye of the beholder, of course. What does it take for YOU to feel classy and fab? It starts from the inside out. It’s your inner confidence, how you carry yourself in the world. If you are hiding under sloppy, oversized sweatshirts, you probably don’t feel too fabulous, do you?

Start with your underwear. I have written many articles on the importance of wearing nice undergarments to boost your outer confidence. It’s time for refresher course.

Ladies, be ruthless. Attack the dresser drawers as if Coco Chanel herself were coming to inspect your lacy pretties. And if you don’t have any lacy pretties, why not? Not your style, or do you not think you’re worth it to have something nice just for you?

I teach my joy clients to honor themselves and it starts with decent underwear. If something has holes, is ripped or stained, trash it. NOW. If something is uncomfortable and you feel the tug-tug-tug happening all day long, trash it. Take five minutes right now and do a quick purge of the underwear drawer.

From here forward, if you put on a pair of panties and they do not feel good, take them off immediately. Say thanks and goodbye, and put them in the garbage. If you take a quick inventory and come up wanting, you now know what is on your holiday list for yourself.

Bras, underwear, socks, and pantyhose all should fit and feel good. This is not a fashion model contest and no one but you decides what is classy and fabulous for you. The only question to ask is: Does this feel good on my skin and do I feel good wearing it?

Those bra straps that drive you nuts every time you wear that one – toss. The pantyhose or tights that have snags or runs – toss. Any pantyhose or tights that are a major struggle to put on – toss.

Getting dressed in the morning is how you start your day. Your goal is to start off smoothly and ease into the day feeling what? Classy and fabulous.

This is no small undertaking. Heed this advice and you will notice a change in you. How you treat yourself is how others will follow suit. If you don’t see yourself as worthy of nice undies, how do you see yourself?

The dresser is the place to start, one drawer at a time. When you have completed that and are feeling fabulous, enter the closet with the same mentality. A French girl does not have a walk-in closet stuffed with stuff. She has what she loves. She has what fits. She has what feels good.

If doing this exercise in your closet leaves you with five things, so be it. Those five things will make you feel classy and fabulous. Accessorize with a scarf and jewelry and shoes and boots. Build your wardrobe purposefully. Your three requirments: Fits, feels good, you like how you look it in.

Don’t wait until the calendar page turns to a new year. Begin now. It will feel refreshing and lightening to unload what does not fit or does not feel good or is not flattering. How you dress yourself is a reflection of how you see yourself.

Fabulous means extraordinary, wonderful, extremely pleasing. If you are not extremely pleasing to yourself, it’s time. What makes you feel fabulous? One dictionary stated that fabulous is the ultimate expression of enthusiasm and joy, and characterized by wonder, inspiration, and love. What are you enthusiastic about? What brings you joy? What do you love?

Ask yourself those questions. Act on those answers. Start with the very foundation, your underwear. Build from there. If you honor yourself in the small unseen ways, you will then also honor yourself in every way, and that is when your life, inside and out, reflects the classy fabulous person that you are. Make a decision now on your underoos and you will have an easier time making a decision on that relationship, career, or any other choice that comes along.

You are indeed fabulous. Let yourself feel it.

And send me your underwear stories!

I want to thank you….

“I feel a very unusual sensation – if it is not indigestion, I think it must be gratitude.” ~Benjamin Disraeli

Today’s article is short and sweet, so you can say thank you. Think thanks and express thanks. To those in your world now, and those long gone. To those yet to come.

If I could wave my wand of wonder and bliss over all of you, I would have the fairy dust grant you the habit of daily thanks. Morning, noon, and night. And all the moments in between. You practice thanks, and your life will change. Cross my heart.

I’m a fan of British boy band singer Robbie Williams. I “met” him the year I lived in France and some of his song lyrics have stuck with me. In “Spread Your Wings,” he says to spread your wings before they fall apart. He asks directly and bluntly: “Did you try to change your life? Did you ever try to change your life?”

If you want to change your life, start now with a simple vow of thanks. Maintain it daily.

That’s all. I’m very thankful for you.

P.S. I’m thankful for quotes. Let me share a few.

“I would maintain that thanks are the highest form of thought, and that gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder.”  ~G.K. Chesterton

“We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.”  ~Thornton Wilder

“I can no other answer make, but, thanks, and thanks.” ~William Shakespeare

 

Pears cannot ripen alone

“Pears cannot ripen alone. So we ripened together.” That quote from novelist and essayist Meridel Le Sueur gave me double pause. I did not recall that pears cannot ripen alone. Since I used to buy pears in the can (I know, I know), the ripening issue was a moot point.

It got me thinking about how much I don’t know, and how much I’ve forgotten. I know you can put green bananas in a paper bag to yellow them up faster. I know if I put apples in the fridge they’ll stay fresher longer, but I like them in the wire basket on the counter.

But my thoughts were not just reflecting upon my knowledge, or lack thereof, regarding fruits.  My philosophical side tuned in and said, “Hmmm. Yeah.” (My philosophical side does not have a broad vocabulary.)

[image error]Each pear does its ripening on its own and in its own time, but needs another pear there. As with pears, so it goes with people.

Each baby is born, but if left alone, will die. Humans need another human for basic survival, but the meaning goes deeper than that. We are not talking about the simple bare necessities of life, we’re talking about ripening.

I am formed and fine – and perhaps just sitting on the counter — and now I need to “mature.” I want to become my fullest, greatest, true self.

To ripen is to develop, to evolve, to become fully grown. To do that, we need others along the way. It is the paradox of life that although we must grow alone as individuals, we also need to rely on each other to do so. We become our best individual self through the support and nurturing of others.

I pride myself on being independent and being the encourager of others. It helped me tremendously these past years to let down my guard and allow that I need support, too. In my process of ripening, I have been aided by others.

I cannot ripen alone. We all ripen together through the wisdom in books, the insight of song, and the understanding and mentorship of others.

Life, and ripening, is a process. We each must move forward and advance down our own unique path, but others, by forging their own way before us, make the journey easier. We are all at different stages of our ripening.

In ripening together, we all become changed for the better. By improving the life of someone around us, our life, too, is improved. The tasks needed are not heroic or exhausting. Offer an ear to listen. Give a hug, a smile, a kick in the rear. Share a little of your own experience and let the other person know that the ripening process produces the best fruit.

If you are “fully ripened,” plant your seeds for the future. Another quote from this author states, “Perhaps women like me of another generation are a bridge. Pass over, use the energy of the root in our witness and our singing.”

One of my favorite quotes is from Rumi, “Be a lamp, a lifeboat or a ladder.” I now would like to add, be a bridge.

My work as a coach helps others ripen. Be it their personal life, their career, their book, they are evolving and ripening into their full self. The flesh, color, and feel of a ripened pear is a thing to behold. So are you.

If you are just sitting on the counter alone, find someone to be the lamp, lifeboat, ladder, or bridge for you. It is a mutually beneficial arrangement. Let’s ripen together.

Your life is a sacred journey

Your life is a sacred journey. And it is about change, growth, discovery, movement, transformation, continuously expanding your vision of what is possible, stretching your soul, learning to see clearly and deeply, listening to your intuition, taking courageous challenges at every step along the way. You are on the path… exactly where you are meant to be right now… And from here, you can only go forward, shaping your life story into a magnificent tale of triumph, of healing, of courage, of beauty, of wisdom, of power, of dignity, and of love.

- Caroline Adams

That quote is one of my faves. I read it often. Read it until the words seep in and resonate. This is your sacred journey. Embrace it.

Advice, guidance and JOY are within!

I was talking too fast the other day, about advice and guidance, and a single word came out. Ad-vid-ance. I liked it. Yet “advidance” prints out to look too much like “avoidance.”

Do we avoid advice and guidance? Perhaps that is wise. So often we get advice and guidance from well-meaning friends, family, and colleagues, yet it isn’t the right fit for us.

We are taught to rely on advice and guidance from sources outside of us, yet the real source of advice and guidance is always within us.

One of my book coaching clients says she bought every self-help book ever written until she realized that all those books were only confirming what she already knew within her. She didn’t need outside advice, she simply needed to heed her internal guidance.

Your gut/your heart/your internal guidance knows what is right for you. I call it the IV, the Inner Voice. Tuning in to it and acting on it will lead you to your joy, guaranteed.

We often ignore the Inner Voice, our internal steering mechanism, because it may take us into uncharted territory. We are not sure what lies ahead, yet our gut says go for it. Our friends tell us to stay on the tried-and-true path. Our family preaches security. Our colleagues warn to play it safe.

So we do. On and on we trot down a path that is familiar and comfortable, and not fulfilling. When occasion arises to make a choice, we can feel the answer deep within us, yet we have been trained to ask the external sources for their advice and guidance. We somehow are taught to believe that others know better.

Really? Who knows you better than you?

I certainly have read many books, attended many workshops, and have listened to many coaches and mentors. I still do. Their advice and guidance has been reassurance that I know best. They don’t lay out the path for me. They don’t tell me to follow this road, turn left, then take a right. They simply keep me tuned in to MY internal guidance. They are the voices of calm and reason and trust.

The lesson we always need to hear, and the only one we need to hear: Trust yourself.

Sometimes that takes some getting used to. Listening to my Inner Voice has led me to where I now write, speak, teach, coach, and mentor women. I don’t give them “the answers.” I give them  tools and ways to tap into their Inner Voice. I am support and accountability as I help them discover how to trust themselves again.

Learning to listen to that Inner Voice is the key. It’s the key to your calm, your fulfillment, your joy. It’s the key to your health, your wealth, your relationships, your confidence, your happiness.

Your Inner Voice will help you birth that book, take that job, leave that job, get into a fitness program, sign up for calligraphy class, create birds with sequins and glue, tell your family no, tell your beloved yes, and always, always, always, your Inner Voice will take care of you.

To get you started getting back in touch with yourself, take a few minutes every day to be quiet and be with yourself. No distractions, no computer, no television, no electronics. Just you and your comfy spot in your home or office. Close your eyes. Breathe deep, fill your belly. In and out. Smile.

Picture a place, real or imagined, that brings you a sense of delight and calm. You may have been  there before, maybe not. Maybe you pick a scene from childhood where you feel safe and the stress of being a grown up had not yet entered your life. For me it was my apple tree in the backyard.

Sit in your calm, serene, restful place. Continue to feel the smile on your face. Feel any sensations that are there. Warm sun on your skin. A slight breeze. Feel the texture of what you are sitting on there. Is it the wide branch of a tree? Is it a silky soft bed? Is it the sand? Is it a cafe in Paris?

That’s all you do. Breathe in this place that you love. Take a few minutes and go there every day. In doing so, you are relaxing your body, which relaxes your mind and changes your body chemicals. You have reduced your stress level in these few minutes.

You have also opened up to being able to listen to your Inner Voice. It wants to speak to you. You simply are giving yourself an opportunity to listen.

Make a date with yourself daily. The more often you do, the calmer you feel, and you will start to  notice your internal guidance. You will reconnect with your innermost desires. You will be on the first step to living your life of joy right here right now.

You don’t have to put it off.  You don’t have to wait for “someday” to feel better. You don’t have to rely on the “advidance” of others. Take a few minutes everyday to relax into yourself. Trust that internal guidance. You won’t regret it. Your joy is waiting.

You are brilliant….

This familiar quote from Marianne Williamson is always worth reading again.
YOU are brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous. Liberate yourself. Liberate others. Love to you all!

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

-Marianne Williamson

Save the last dance for me, Amish lady

The other day I was dancing around the house to Michael Buble’s version of “Save the Last Dance for Me.” It’s a familiar tune and I dig the big band swing style. The lyrics tell the story of a guy telling his gal to go dance and have fun, and “don’t forget who’s taking you home and in whose arms you’re gonna be, so darling, save the last dance for me.”

I had always assumed the “narrator” was a dude who didn’t care for dancing, but his lady did so he let her have her fun. As fate would have it, I was in a hotel lobby this week, and I heard a television interview and learned that the writer of that song was actually unable to dance.

Doc Pomus, real name Jerome Solon Felder, was stricken with polio as a teenager and ended up using crutches to walk and eventually used a wheel chair. This song was a love song to his wife.

Doc probably would have loved to dance with his sweetheart. I now picture the scene of a devoted darling watching his young beauty twirl around the dance floor, knowing he would have her in his arms the rest of the night. I imagine their shared smiles and winks across the dance floor.

I have a good imagination. I also like must humans am quick to assume I know the story. I learned something.

At said same hotel this week, I saw two gals in the breakfast room wearing old fashioned dresses and head garb. With one quick glance, I assumed they were Amish. I never knew Amish people stayed in hotels. How did they get here? Where was their horse and buggy? Did that lady just the electric waffle maker?

The next day they were at breakfast with a man who was not dressed “normal” but not in Amish gear. He didn’t have a black vest, a hat, or a long beard. He was talking about speeding tickets and police officers.

Hmm. I took a longer look at the ladies. Their dresses were not plain frocks of the Amish. One gal was wearing a red print, and the other one was navy. One had jeans on under her dress.

Then I heard the conversation switch to another time when they were at another place and had brought the canon…. My Amish people were Civil War reenactment folks.

Oh, how quick the mind is to make haste conclusions. How often do we see someone walking in the mall or at the grocery store and based upon their clothing, we make a quick judgment. We all do it, even when we don’t realize it.

My Amish incident increased my awareness as to how often I think I know someone’s story when really I know nothing.

We also may encounter a situation and think we know immediately exactly what to do or we throw up our hands in panic and think it is beyond hope. Usually a deep breath and a second calmer evaluation leads to knowing that neither extreme is true.

A second look gives us a more accurate perception. And always, it is that, our perception. I see the world through my filter, as you do yours. What is the truth is somewhere in between.

The point to this pondering, I’m not sure. I guess to remind myself that I don’t know everything, that what I think changes, and what meets the eye (or the ear) is not all there is.

And that “Save the Last Dance For Me” is a sweet song.

Things I wonder about from time to time

In general, I am not a worrier (recovering one though), yet I am a wonderer. I wonder about a lot of things. I have been on this planet (this go round anyway) nearly half a century. I have gained some wisdom, yet often I still feel like a young pup full of curiosity.

I wonder about all kinds of things, some deep and thinky, some not so profound.

I wonder if I will ever stop getting pimples. I wonder if I let my hair go without coloring it, would it be a pretty color like my mom or would it be blah and boring. I wonder if I will ever let go of wondering about gray hair.

I wonder if I will ever know how to use all the features on my phone. I wonder if I ever will truly want to.

I wonder if I will ever understand how the breeze makes those trees sway and then those trees and then those trees and then back swooshing them all together in a big display of tandem swaying.

I wonder if I will ever tire of the beauty of autumn.

I wonder if I will ever not have to not stop and look up the difference between prostrate and prostate before I use that word choice.

I wonder if I will ever like coffee.

I wonder if my son will go to Mars. I wonder if my sense of smell will improve as I age. I wonder if I will get bifocals.

I wonder if people will ever stop getting uptight over someone’s skin color, religion, or who they like to kiss.

I wonder if I will ever run a marathon. I wonder if I will ever run a 5K. I wonder if I will ever run around the block.

I wonder if I’ll ever create a stage play. I wonder if I’ll ever write more books. I wonder if I’ll produce my own line of greeting cards.

I wonder if I’ll ever be the chick singer in an all-boy band.

I wonder if Prince Charming will go gray. I wonder if he’ll have long hair and a ponytail when we’re in our eighties. I wonder about all the places we will live.

I wonder if I’ll ever enjoy cooking.

I wonder if I’ll ever make sense of the human existence. I wonder if I’ll stop wanting all the answers. I wonder if I’ll master a foreign language.

I wonder who is our next president.

I wonder how many grandbabies I’ll have. I wonder who was the first person to think women need to shave their legs. I wonder if I will always love emery boards, Trident White gum, and dish towels.

I wonder if I will always love being the first one to dip my knife into the brand new jar of peanut butter. I wonder I will always love travel. I wonder if anything has been more helpful than sticky notes.

I wonder if Barry Manilow will live to 100. I wonder if pantyhose will become extinct. I wonder if mental telepathy is possible.

I wonder if reality shows will ever go away.

I wonder if the sight of a starry sky will ever stop making me wonder. I wonder.

My first Halloween twenty years later as empty nester

Twenty years ago was my first Halloween. Well, not really my first, but my first as a mommy. My firstborn was two months old when I dressed him in his pumpkin outfit and propped him on the couch next to a stuffed pumpkin and witch.

The two characters were made of silky nylon fabric and squishy soft to squeeze. Pumpkin has the face of the Kool-Aid man and WitchiePoo is smiling and friendly.

That’s how I could always remember exactly how big my son was that first Halloween, the same as WitchiPoo. He had less eyebrows though.

Every year I would take my boys pictures with those two Halloween characters. Every year until my sons got too big of course. But every year I would get out my Halloween sillies and measure against the boys’ ever-growing bodies. Their shoes were soon bigger than WitchiPoo.

The past few years I haven’t even decorated for fall at all. My guys were wrapped up in their teenage boy world and I was busy with other pursuits. This year, I got the bins out. A bit musty smelling and a bit faded, WitchiePoo and Pumpkin grinned at me.

I grinned back and hugged them. Then dang it, surprisingly, I felt myself well up with tears. We may not have “done” Halloween in a while, but this is the first H-Day with no boys in the house. My mommyheart felt a pang.

It’s crazy to think I’ve had those Halloween critters for twenty years. Twenty years sure zipped by quickly. I gave the little creatures a photo opp by themselves on the chair and called my college boys. BoyWonder#1 didn’t answer, but BoyWonder#2 did.

“Hey, Honey, I just got out the tub of Halloween stuff and pulled out the pumpkin and little witch.”

“Oh, the soft squishy ones!”

Yes, he remembers.

That made me feel good. Yet I realized that the memories we make over the years are for us moms just as much as our kids. Sure, I wanted to provide my boys to have a happy childhood, but just as important, I wanted a happy mommyhood.

When I would deck out the house for each season, it was fun for me. My boys may have delighted in it. I know I did. In retrospect, I see I did it for me. I liked festooning the halls for every holiday or season. Having kids in the house gave me an excuse.

We had it all. I had a plethora of plastic storage bins of all my various seasonal decor. Over the many moves and changes of life, I stopped buying and got rid of most of that stuff. One tub of fall deckings remains. It holds my beloved items, including WitchiePoo and Pumpkin, a few fall pretties from France, and a few things from the years of growing boys.

Something is stirring in me this season. It’s a realization that I still love decorating. I don’t have to have boys in the house as excuse to express fall whimsy. Instead of kid-friendly creatures, I’m into sparkly pumpkins. Lots and lots of sparkly pumpkins.

In fact, I may have to go buy another plastic storage bin. This is my first Halloween, as an empty nester that it. And it’s pretty sparkly. I think I’ll take a picture to send my boys.