Teresa R. Funke's Blog: Bursts of Brilliance for a Creative Life, page 4

Taking a Short Break

The Bursts of Brilliance for a Creative Life blog is taking a short break to have some fun.

The blog will resume in April, 2024. Thank you for reading!

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You Bet I’m Proud

Whenever I run into anyone I haven’t seen in a while they ask, “Have you written any new books lately?”

“No,” I say. “But I’m still writing my weekly blog.”

Most people look a bit disappointed. I guess a blog is nowhere near as impressive or exciting as a book. Or is it?

Three days ago, I celebrated the tenth anniversary of the publication of my first blog post back in 2014. Ten years, 473 original posts, countless thousands of views that have come via my subscription service, my newsletter, my social media, and random Google searches. Most incredibly, I’ve written over 225,000 words. That’s the equivalent of three novels! When I shared that word count with an acquaintance, she said, “Wow, that’s amazing. You must be so proud.”

And I am. Over the years, I’ve seen specific posts picked up and rerun by other bloggers; I’ve read several posts on radio shows and podcasts, as well as at various live events; and I’ve performed half a dozen house concerts with my friend, Colleen, in which we paired my blog posts with songs of her choosing. That’s not to mention my book, Bursts of Brilliance for a Creative Life — which was a compilation of some of the best blog posts from the first five years — and the notecards and journals that I’ve also sold.

Bursts of Brilliance® is a trademarked phrase, and I’m now hosting live events, keynote talks, and workshops under that name. In fact, Bursts of Brilliance now needs its own website to showcase all it has become.

So, yes, I’m proud, but more so, I’m extremely grateful. Writing this blog has been the best part of my week for a decade now. It has seen me through creative and personal challenges, career ups and downs, and a worldwide pandemic. Best of all, in writing from my heart, I have occasionally touched your hearts too. It means the world to me when you share my posts on your social media, or forward them to a friend, or just write to tell me something I wrote made you cry. Unlike painters or musicians or actors, we writers rarely get to watch anyone experience our art. I can’t see you laugh or cry. I have no idea what you look like, or how old you are, or where you live. Still, I can feel you when I write, and it’s your energy that completes the creative circle and makes this blog possible.

For fun, here is a slightly pared down version of my very first post. In rereading this, I realized the goals I’d set for this blog continue to motivate me. I guess I really did land on that one topic for which I would never grow weary. Thank you, dearest reader, for joining me on this wonderous journey!

First Post – Feb. 21, 2014

Few things excite us more than a great idea, especially when it’s one of our own. Watch a person’s body language, listen to the passion in their voice, watch the light fill their eyes when they say those magic words, “I have an idea,” or “Listen to this” or “You know what we need to do?” In those moments we are brilliant, and we know it.

I have a friend who started a business in his basement. Whenever something good happened at work, he’d fly up the stairs, fling open the door, and shout to his wife, “I’m a goddamn genius!” And in that moment, he was. This blog is about celebrating and honoring those bursts of brilliance that hit each of us every day. It’s about believing that our creativity is boundless, and even if we don’t act on every great idea we form, the very fact we had the thought at all is magic. This blog is about relishing spontaneity . . . dropping everything to jot down an idea, to text a friend, to rush across the room to tell a co-worker. It’s about drawing energy from that initial burst of brilliance whether you act on the idea or not. It’s not about success or failure, it’s about creativity and passion and the joy of discovering the amazing insights we never knew we had.

I always said I’d never write a blog until I had something unique to say, until passion drove me to it. So, nothing about this blog will ever be rote. I’ll write it when inspiration strikes . . . And like all good ideas, this blog will morph over time in ways I can’t yet imagine, and I can’t wait to see where it goes.

One more thing . . . you’ll find that comments are not allowed here. Why? Because it’s not about whether you agree with me or not. It’s about what you do with any inspiration you find here. I want you to take that energy and turn it toward your own work immediately, not squander it on forming a response to me or arguing with the last person who posted an opinion. We spend far too much time reacting and not enough time acting.

It’s time to embrace the genius in all of us with no apologies and no hesitation. Because whether your idea changes your life, your community, or your world, once it’s out there, nothing will ever be the same.

If you like this post, please share and credit Teresa and Bursts of Brilliance for a Creative Life blog

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Resistance Is a Tool

A while back, I was mulling over an offer I’d received. When I first received it, my gut told me that, while it was a great opportunity, it was not something I really wanted to do. But I had no good reason for not wanting to do it, so I assumed that initial feeling was wrong. I talked to the person who’d extended the offer and got more information. Logically, it seemed to make sense to accept it, so I drafted up an e-mail saying yes but specifying some parameters. I thought those parameters would make me feel better about agreeing to move forward.

Every time I went to my computer to hit “send,” though, I hesitated. I’d actually sit there for several seconds with my hand on the mouse, but I could not make myself do it. “Maybe I still need to think about the wording. I’ll send it later,” I thought. At least four more times that day, I tried and failed to will my finger to press send. And that’s when I remembered what my friend Franklin Taggart once told me, “Resistance is a tool.”

He’s right, of course. Resistance tells us something is off. It does not lay out for us what that thing is – it would be a far more valuable tool if it did – but it gives us the space to dig deeper. I talked over my situation in detail with my husband and, as so often happens when I speak my thoughts out loud, I actually heard in my own words what was really bothering me. Then, just to make myself feel better, I listed out the pros and cons of saying yes, so I’d feel like I was making an informed decision rather than simply going with my gut. In the end, though, it was that ongoing feeling of unease that drove me to my computer to delete the draft of that e-mail and start a new one, in which I politely and appreciatively declined the offer.

I wrote a few weeks ago about how sometimes our resistance stems from knowing in our soul that a suggestion is correct, but we aren’t yet ready to face it. I’ve also talked about how sometimes resistance means we might need to put a creative project aside for a while until we uncover exactly what we’re resisting. And now I’m saying that sometimes we know something might actually be right, but our Higher Self is telling us no. In every case, resistance is our soul forcing a pause so we can get out of our heads, and out of our egos, and figure out what really aligns with our current purpose.

Because resistance forces a pause, it can feel like a waste of time. It’s far easier sometimes to just talk ourselves into making a decision one way or the other. It can also feel like it requires less energy to simply push ahead than to figure out what is bothering us. But think of it this way . . . how much energy would I have expended trying to get excited about a project for which I had doubts? And how much time would I have spent participating in an opportunity that didn’t feel like a good fit?

Like all tools, resistance can help you build a better experience for yourself, but only if you allow it to assist you.

If you like this post, please share and credit Teresa and Bursts of Brilliance for a Creative Life blog

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Woe Is Me

There have been times in human history when the term “Woe is me” was actually stated in seriousness by people who were sad or overly challenged. In modern usage, though, it is said in a more dramatic, humorous way, and sometime with a hint of irony: “I won front row tickets to the concert Saturday night and now I can’t watch the new movie on Netflix. Woe is me.”

Today, though, I’m feeling a bit “Woe is me” and not in the humorous or ironical way, but also not in the drowning in sorrow way. For lack of a better expression, I’m going with that one.

I’ve been stuck in the house all week with a husband who has been suffering through his first bout of Covid-19, and waiting to see if I, too, will come down with it. It’s like living with a ticking time bomb.

I canceled all the fun plans I had this week, of course. And while I don’t mind tending to my sick husband at all (he’s always so good to me when I’m ill), he’s taken over the only room in the house with a TV. I’m not much of a TV watcher, but I do like to unwind at night with an episode of Masterpiece Theater (no, I’m serious). So, I’m feeling a bit sorry for both of us at the moment.

It’s been such a sickly winter, hasn’t it? I myself was super ill in November and December. I don’t think I’ve fully recovered even now. And most of my friends have taken turns in their sickbeds as well. In this post-pandemic world, it’s tempting to wear a mask everywhere I go, but on the occasions I’ve worn one, I feel like everyone is looking at me like I’m a killjoy.

All of this musing is really just me stalling. The fact is, I don’t have it in me this week to be inspiring or uplifting or to look for the good in anything. Down deep, I still believe our art and creativity matters, but I guess it doesn’t matter all of the time. Today, for example, it’s hard to care.

Self-pity, I suppose, is just part of being human, though it’s a part we’re often scolded for experiencing. We’re told self-pity is not productive in any way, but it did produce this blog post, didn’t it? So, there you go. Don’t ever let anyone tell you what is and isn’t productive.

I won’t dwell in this state for long, though. That would feel like creative suicide. But just acknowledging it’s where I’m at right now without any self-criticism has made me feel a tiny bit better. If you found this particular post woefully inadequate, I apologize. By brain is just a bit foggy today.

If you like this post, please share and credit Teresa and Bursts of Brilliance for a Creative Life blog

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Creativity Takes Place in the Now

Last week, I had the opportunity to share my new talk, “Ignite Your Bursts of Brilliance,” with some very lovely members of our local writing organization. Since it’s the start of the year, the director thought it might be nice for me to focus on helping people realize their writing matters so they’d stay motivated to keep writing throughout the year.

In my 32 years as a professional writer, I’ve heard and probably tried every piece of writing advice you can imagine. In my 17 years as a writer’s coach, I also learned that each and every one of my clients approached their writing in their own unique ways. There is no particular method, or schedule, or structure that works for everyone. Trust me.

So, it’s great to set goals for our long-term art or writing careers. It’s great to set goals for just this year. It’s even great to set goals for just this week. It’s fine to create vision boards, and focus on intentions, and declare resolutions, as long as we understand that it is the creating or stating of those visions or intentions that matters most. The real power lies not in revisiting those goals and resolutions, but in the moment when you decided you wanted them in the first place.

If your vision board, for example, helps you revisit that moment, great! But our goals or intentions can just as easily weigh us down. If looking at your vision board is bringing you joy, then leave it up. But if there comes a day when you look at it and see all the things you’re not accomplishing, take it down. Right now. Feel into the freedom of letting go of your plans and come back to the moment. You can always put it back up later, if you want.

Creating takes place in the now, and only in the now. It is sometimes inspired by the past, that’s true, and our dreams can take us into an exciting future, but the act of art can only take place in the now. Think of it this way . . . you suddenly remember one of your grandma’s recipes that you haven’t made in a while, and now you’re in the past. You’re remembering how much you loved that dish or how much you loved your grandmother and you’re feeling inspired in the now to make that dish again.

So, you plan to buy the ingredients tomorrow and make it on Sunday night. Now you’re in the future, and that’s necessary too. But the actual act of creating and eating that meal can only take place in the now. If you make the dish perfectly, you might feel such joy. If you burn it, you might be disappointed in yourself, but succeed or fail, the thing you remembered and then set out to do is happening now.

I’ve always said, “We are in charge of our goals, they are not in charge of us.” That’s because we create with body, mind, and soul. So, if your goal is to write for an hour before work each morning, and one morning you “blow it” and go back to sleep, you did not fail to achieve your goal. Your body decided it needed more sleep. It did you that favor. So rather than wasting precious energy beating yourself up, be grateful for the extra sleep, and then find some other time during the day to write or just to think about your writing. Turn off the radio while you drive to work and plot out your story, record some thoughts on your phone as you take the dog for a walk, jot some ideas down as you cook dinner. Not all art takes place at our desks or in our studios anyway.

My point is, you can’t schedule in or plan for your Bursts of Brilliance® . Creativity doesn’t work that way, and neither does life. If you uncover a schedule that works for you most of the time, you will sometimes be visited during that time by some awesome ideas. But just as often, they’re going to strike outside of your plans and schedules. So, leave space for them, and save energy for them. If your goals are currently giving you energy, that’s great. If your schedule is allowing you time to create, that’s a gift. But if any of those things are weighing you down, release them and find your way back to the now.

If you want to create, there’s only one vision you really need . . . to see yourself as someone who loves your art, when it’s working and when it’s not; when you’re on schedule and when you’re off; when you’re achieving and when you’re resting. See your unique artist self as someone who is moved by the past, pulled toward the future, but always in the creative now. Because that is the only place you will find those Bursts of Brilliance® that come to you and through you in a way that is uniquely, only, and always yours.

If you like this post, please share and credit Teresa and Bursts of Brilliance for a Creative Life blog

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Is Your Identity Fixed or Fluid?

In my ongoing efforts to declutter and Feng Shui my house, I got rid of 96 more books in the past week. In the process, I tackled a bookshelf that I have so far mostly avoided, the one containing my massive World War II collection of books that I used as reference while writing seven historical fiction books set in that time period. I feel pretty certain I’m done with writing new stories about the war, although I may still adapt a few. All of my books were based on real people whom I interviewed, and all of my sources have passed away, so it feels like that chapter of my life has closed.

In some ways, I will always be a “World War II writer,” but in many ways I no longer am. And that’s the tricky thing about identity. Some aspects of one’s identity can be true and no longer true at the same time.

Part of the reason I couldn’t get rid of those books was my identification with my role as a historian. In my mind, “real” historians do not get rid of their books or their research. They hold onto them forever on dusty bookshelves or in overcrowded filing cabinets, and eventually they die and their heirs either donate their collections to the local university or throw them away. If I gave away some of my books, could I still consider myself a true historian? And was I ever really a true historian to begin with? I’ve always identified more with being a historical fiction writer who also had a history degree. But then again, don’t “real” writers also hold onto their books and research? Isn’t a huge private library the hallmark of a serious writer?

This inner battle with my own sense of identity is part of what kept me from getting rid of those books several times over the past year. But lately, it feels like something new might be coming my way. A new type of writing, or a new book. But it can’t arrive if there’s no space for it.

So, I did it. I cleared off three shelves in that bookcase and donated all those wonderful history books. I put a few small things on the shelves, but mostly I left them bare, as an invitation to whatever is coming next.

And now it feels so expansive in my office, as if those old books, those old obligations, those old regrets about the history books I never did write and the awards I never did win are no longer bearing down on me.

Identity can seem fixed at times (I’m a firstborn Leo raised in Idaho). But even the things that feel so undeniable can sometimes turn out to be untrue. Think about the people who’ve identified with a certain ethnic group all their lives, only to find out via DNA testing they’re not that at all. Think about the people who identified strongly with a certain religious or political group all their lives, only to one day leave it. Think about the people who hold dearly to a legend of family glory, only to find out their ancestor lied about that legend all along.

What is identity really, if not the story of ourselves? And aren’t stories supposed to evolve? Aren’t the main characters supposed to grow and change?

If this is my story, then it’s up to me to say how I identify, and it’s up to me to decide what feels true to me right now. I can choose to honor my old identities without feeling stuck in them. And I can choose to be open to whatever new identities might be coming my way in the future. But mostly, I must decide what feels good to me today. What lifts me up, rather than pins me down. What intrigues me, rather than feels already decided. What connects me to the world, rather than separates me.

I can choose to tell you how I identify, or I can keep it to myself. You can project how you think I identify, or how you think I should identify, and you go right ahead, but the only person writing this story is me.

It’s true, I have been a historian. I also never was a historian. And I’m still a historian. But as Gertrude Stein once said, “A very important thing is not to make up your mind that you are any one thing.” I’m excited to see who I’ll become next.

If you like this post, please share and credit Teresa and Bursts of Brilliance for a Creative Life blog

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What It Really Means to Be a Living Legend

My husband shared with me a TikTok video in which a high school teacher is showing her students the old music video of “We Are the World.” You know, the hit single recorded in 1985 to benefit African famine relief that featured many of the musical greats of that era, including Michael Jackson, Stevie Wonder, Diana Ross, Tina Turner, Bruce Springsteen, Billy Joel, Cyndi Lauper, and more.

The teacher pauses the video each time one of those megastars approaches the mic, and asks her students, “Who’s that?” Most of the time, the answer is bored silence or comments like, “No idea.” At least one kid did correctly identify Michal Jackson, though.

Think about this for a minute . . . many of these people were at one time referred to as “living legends.” Some of them still are. But can you really be a living legend, or any kind of legend, if half the people in your own country don’t know who you are?

In fact, I now wonder how many people who were over the age of 50 in 1985 could’ve named many of those singers back then. On the flip side, I watch the music award shows today and wonder, “Who are these people?” My kids know, but I don’t.

So maybe it’s not really all that big of a deal to be a “living legend” after all. When I think of those singers I mentioned, some of their songs may live on long after they’ve died, and those songs may enter the realm of legend. And some of the artists themselves will likely be remembered for generations, but only by those who care to know.

Many of us, for example, may recognize a well-known piece of classical music but not be able to tell you which composer wrote it. Most of us can name at least one Shakespeare play, but I know many people who have no desire to see one performed. We can declare someone a living legend, but we can’t really predict whose names or works will maintain legendary status. Time and history will decide whether our names or works live on for a generation or two, or for a century or two, but even if they do, many people just won’t care.

So maybe think of your work as being for the now, because that is the only thing that’s guaranteed. When that contingency of megastars gathered to record in January of 1985, they were creating an anthem to raise money for famine relief in Africa, specifically Ethiopia, which was experiencing a devastating drought. When the single was released, I and many thousands of other people rushed out to buy the record, helping raise millions of dollars for the relief effort. That song impacted me greatly. As a seventeen-year old moving toward adulthood, I’d already decided helping others was something I wanted to do. And here were these musical idols creating something in unity and bringing me and everyone else into that recording studio with them. It wasn’t just their effort, it was our effort, at least that’s how it felt to me.

I wasn’t naïve enough to think we were going to solve the problem of hunger in Africa, or even that we were doing it in the right way, but I thought maybe the few dollars I put down for that single might help one person half a world away.

So, write your songs and plays and stories and paint your pictures for today, for what’s happening around you, for what you care about, for what currently gives you joy. Create your art because it wants to enter the world through you, right now – and maybe just for now. Don’t censor yourself, don’t try to predict the trends, and for God’s sake, don’t sell out. Stay true to your art as it presents itself to you today.

It’s probably an overstatement to say any piece of art can change the whole world, but it can change you, and it might change someone else in ways you’ll never know. Your work may shine brightly while you’re on this earth, or it may be discovered long after you’re dead. It may be appreciated in the future by the masses, or by just one of your descendants. It might get destroyed in a fire or live on in a video that people will someday watch and say, “That’s kinda cool. I wonder who that was.”

It’s not for you to say what happens. It never was. It never will be.

All you’ve got is today. So why are you sitting there, you living legends? Go create!

If you like this post, please share and credit Teresa and Bursts of Brilliance for a Creative Life blog

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Just Let Me Do My Work

The other night I had a dream I was working on something creative, and a small group of people gathered around me. They kept saying things like, “Can you explain what you’re doing?” and “Are you getting paid for that?” and “What do you really do for work?”

I told them that, while it wasn’t really clear to them what I was doing, it constituted work. “Let me ask you this,” I said in the dream. “What is work? And is work always paid? For example, when you tell your kid, ‘Go work on your science project,’ you’re acknowledging the project is ‘work’ and its important work that matters, yet your child is not getting paid for that.

“What about when someone tells you they are ‘working in their garden’ all afternoon so they can harvest their vegetables. Are they working? They just said they were. And gardening is work. But they’re not getting paid for it. So, some important work is paid work and some is not. I think we can all agree on that, right?  So, please, just let me do my work.”

And that’s where the dream ended. It’s odd to have a dream so realistic and so specific. Where were the dancing unicorns or the never-ending hallways? Also, isn’t it enough that I literally have to have conversations similar to that with others and with myself during my waking hours? Do I also need to experience them in my dreams? Give me a break, subconscious.

If you were to put a camera on a writer, most of what we do would not look like work to you. We spend half our time staring into space waiting for the next line, or making faces at ourselves in the mirror so we can figure out how to correctly describe a furrowed brow, or going on long walks to clear our heads. Sorry, but that’s just how we work.

It’s not uncommon to ask an artist of any kind what they’re working on now and have them tell you, “I can’t quite explain it yet, but it’s coming together.” You often follow up by asking us, “Well then, how do you know it will work?”  We often don’t. Other times we are absolutely sure it will, but we can’t explain why. Call it a feeling. It’s true, we often operate on feelings. That’s just how we work.

Some of us get really good at working the systems. You’ve heard of us because we excel at marketing, or we entered all the right contests and won a few awards, or we worked every angle until we landed the right gig.

Others just hunker down and focus on the work itself, not really caring if anyone ever buys our art because the work is feeding our souls more than our pocketbooks.

And many of us fall somewhere in between.

Most people see a picture of a research scientist writing out difficult formulas and recognize they are working on something “important,” though most of us have no need or desire to try to understand how. We see a picture of a teacher in the classroom and recognize they are working, without ever knowing or caring about how many hours they spend grading papers at home, running to the art store to get more supplies for their kids, attending basketball games to support their students. Most of us don’t think about that as part of the job, but it is.

There’s more to everyone’s work than we will ever realize. There’s more to any artist’s work than you will ever realize. There’s more to my work than even those closest to me often realize.

I read once that we are every person in our dreams. If that’s true, that means each of those bystanders asking me a question was really just me asking myself whether what I’m doing really counts as work. So, here’s what I’d like to tell myself (and others):

I’m brewing up some creative new ideas. I can’t describe them yet, but I trust they will come together (or they won’t). I’m letting go of some things that feel too personal to talk about just yet, but I will when I’m ready. Last year was one of my most wildly successful years workwise, not moneywise, and that’s just the way it is sometimes. I’m not here to convince anyone, myself included, that I’m special or gifted or that the things I create are worthy. I know only one thing for sure . .  . I’m doing the work I was put here to do.

So, please, just let me do my work.

If you like this post, please share and credit Teresa and Bursts of Brilliance for a Creative Life blog

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Hollywood or the Artist Next Door

Listen up, Hollywood, because this is going to be news to you . . . there are many successful, influential, groundbreaking artists who do not fall under the description of the “tortured artist” trope. While it’s true that some genius artists have suffered from serious addictions, hardships, and mental health issues, that should not make them fodder for your content mill.

It’s time you stopped depicting all artists as either:

Starving artists

Tortured geniuses

Misunderstood prodigies

Obsessed artists bent on their own self-destruction

Neurotic outcasts

Complete jerks undeserving of their success

Manipulated or overly trusting fools

Everyone loves a good rags-to-riches story, that’s true. And we can all cheer on artist heroes who overcame great obstacles or adversity in order to succeed. I particularly enjoy artist movies that set the record straight about who was really behind the creation of the art (especially when they show how women or people of color or those in marginalized groups had to sacrifice their names and identities in order to get their work into the world).

Okay, it’s true that a life in the arts is never easy. Interestingly, though, when Hollywood isn’t making us all out to be tortured geniuses, it’s spreading the illusion that if you do make it in the arts, you’re set for life. I’m thinking of a movie I watched again recently that depicted a male children’s book author who was so popular and successful he could afford numerous houses all over the world. I’ve been in this business a long time, and I don’t know many children’s book authors who can afford multiple houses. They make it look so easy in Hollywood.

I’ll concede that while it may be true that many, if not most, bestselling artists and writers lead pretty typical lives, stability doesn’t sell. Good movies need conflict, and that conflict often plays out in just a few ways on screen. For example, I’ve watched hundreds of movies over the years depicting debilitating writer’s block that leads the writer into all sorts of trouble. And just as many about artists of all kinds who’ve “lost” their art and must go on a quest to find it. Not to mention the hundreds of movies whose main character gave up on their art years ago and has led a mediocre life ever since.

I suppose it’s kind of nice to think that we artists are so eternally fascinating that the movies keep coming back to us time and again. But I wonder if all that attention just fuels the general public’s perception that artists are delicate and must be coddled. Or that we are entitled and must be occasionally put in our place (by society, or the universe, or even forces of nature). Or that we thrive on our own self-destruction. Or maybe worse yet, that we are “special,” because if we are uniquely gifted, doesn’t that require us to freely share those gifts with the world and to never disappoint? And doesn’t it require us to always be apart from, even above, the people we serve?

Despite what Hollywood depicts, most working artists are not rich or famous (there’s not enough room at the top for us all to share in that model) and most of us are not tortured geniuses. We are your neighbors. Our kids go to your schools. We volunteer in your communities. We love what we do, but like you, we don’t love all aspects of what we do. We have good financial years and bad ones. We make good decisions about life and poor ones. We create some works of art that sell and some that don’t.

Like you, we do sometimes despair about our art or the industries in which we work. Like you, we do sometimes walk away from our callings for reasons that serve us. Like your favorite local teachers or health care providers or baristas, we reach those of you who need us. Our murals brighten your drive, our local musicians give you space to let down after a long week at work, that writing class you took at the community center helped you process your grief.

Despite Hollywood’s focus on the individual artist, art is community. It is connection. It can raise the rafters in a stadium full of people or make one person cry at the local coffee shop. We artists are special, but no more so than you. It’s when the artist forgets that, and the public forgets that, that the real trouble begins. Never mind what Hollywood wants you to think.

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Soul Resolutions for the New Year

As you may know, I’m not one for making New Year’s resolutions. Why wait until January 1 to start improving yourself or your life? I’m really good at maintaining healthy new habits, when I feel motivated to do so. But my motivation can strike at any time. Plus, too many New Year’s resolutions are either too broad or too specific to stick. But this year, I’m motivated to make some Soul Resolutions for 2024, so here’s my list of 10.

For the sake of my spirit, my health, and my sanity, I resolve:

– To no longer compromise myself in order to please or serve others.

– To speak to myself with more kindness and compassion.

– To say “no” for no other reason than it just doesn’t feel right.

– To do daily grounding practices to pull me back into my body and out of my busy mind.

– To seek out more deep and meaningful conversations.

– To feel my emotions so they can move through me rather than getting stuck.

– To stop saying “I don’t have time for that,” and start believing I do.

– To stick to my rule of no negative work talk before 9:00 a.m. or after 9:00 p.m.

– To reframe my weaknesses as strengths.

– To honor all my Bursts of Brilliance whether they come to fruition or not.

I’d love to know, what are your soul resolutions this year?

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