The More I Know Myself, The Less I Care

The more I know myself, really and deeply know my Self, the less I’m finding I care…

I don’t care what I look like.
I don’t care that I make mistakes.
I don’t care that my thoughts go off on wild, unhelpful tangents.
I don’t care that I get afraid or triggered.
I don’t care to spend so much time Digging Deep. (Gasp! I know!)

The more I know myself, the less I find I care about others too…

I don’t care what others think of me.
I don’t care if they agree or disagree with me.
I don’t have endless opinions or fears on the choices they make either.
And I don’t care if I’m accepted or rejected.
(Yes, despite my equally strong drive to not blindly follow the norm, this was very much a big thing for me.)

Your peace of mind is always tied to your self-love and self-acceptance. -

I just don’t have the energy anymore, let alone the desire, to spend so much time and brain power on ridiculous or exhausting things. There is no part of me that wants to get dragged into it. And that’s a big deal folks! I can go into deep, messy, and uncomfortable places like those people on Hoarders. I like that stuff! It’s my job! So the fact that I want to and actually can so easily let it go and move on is kind of a Christmas miracle.

This wasn’t something I was expecting, although I think it makes perfect sense. When you know yourself, you come to a place of peace with Who You Are (and also, who you are). You come to a place of acceptance and trust and ease, too. And when you feel those things you just let go of the emotional drama you tend to feel, create, or get sucked into.

Because you just don’t flipping care to anymore.

This is the place of nonattachment, or pretty close to it. The place of neutrality, of things that once registered loud and clear no longer ringing the dinner bell, of being unaffected by the things that once paralyzed or catalyzed your every cell in the wrong direction.

When you get to this place your direction is clearer. You know what, when, and how to respond to the world around you. Your judgment isn’t clouded by the cares of what you can suddenly see were actually trivial from the beginning. You simply move when compelled to move; you experience a flow that is natural. There are no more blocks, barriers, or dams to impede you. It’s easier. You’re freer. You can see, feel, and react from something that is true and real, not founded on overwhelm, self-doubt, perfectionism, anxiety, or all the other words for fear.

I won’t say I’m 100% there. There are still things I care about that I’m working to let go (like the unhealthy actions of people that I love – that shit is hard). And there are some things that can only be described as my being “so freaking over that crap“, but that totally imparts a sense of annoyance, exasperation, and impatience, which tells me I’m not totally neutral or at peace with it yet, even though I’m so freaking ready to be.

Oh, I know what you’re thinking.

“How the hell am I suppose to be at peace when my child is hurting themselves or my mother is a crazy-maker? How am I suppose to be neutral when the world is falling to shit, and no one is doing anything about it?”

To that I have three responses to chew on:

  1. It’s hard work. It won’t happen overnight.
  2. Will your negative emotions help you respond better to the situation?
  3. Will a lack of negative emotions really keep you from responding at all?

The point isn’t blindness, ignorance, or even my flippant use of the term “not caring”.

The point is to not be so hot and bothered that Who You Are is negatively impacted by the way in which you respond. being at peace with what is doesnโ€™t mean being inactive in its solutions… on the contrary, it usually means gaining access to clarity and wisdom on the Right Action.

You might just need to experience it for yourself to not think I’m crazy, though. (I know I didn’t get it until one day it clicked that no amount of despair or suffering would change my world for the better.)

And it’s okay if you DO think I’m nuts. I don’t mind. ๐Ÿ˜‰

P.S. I’m going to be adding Digging Deep, Organic Parenting, etc to The Library in July and the price will increase to reflect those additions. Or you can still buy it now at its current cost and get those extras for free when it’s updated. #yay ๐Ÿ™‚

Crazy Moments are Just Crazy Moments (A Message From My Past Self)

Pssst! I’ve got a brand new e-guide coming out on December 9th. Signup for my newsletter to get first dibs!

Crazy moments are JUST crazy moments, nothing more.

I love when I write things on my blog or Facebook or elsewhere in this case, only to find them a week, a month, 6 months later and at just the right time. It’s like wisdom to myself, from myself, and always in the perfect timing.

This happened to me awhile back. Skype wasn’t working for a very important parenting e-course interview, with a very important person. I was swimming in my own triggers of “not being good enough” after some hoped-for cash didn’t come in. I was coming off a meltdown over improperly buttered toast.

Yeah, it wasn’t good.

Then I got an email from myself, something I had scheduled a year before when I was feeling a lot of exhaustion and hoping it was coming to an end soon.

As I read my email I started to feel even more down.

I was describing where we were as a family, what I was struggling with spiritually and in my work, and as I read what I don’t even remember writing I could sense my own dishearted-ness, as well as a deeper sense of faith and Trust.

I have just gone through some intense mentoring and have experienced serious healing. I feel like I have a long way to go. Sometimes I feel so close to being “there” too.

I feel fulfilled, and overwhelmed…

…Right now I’m struggling to maintaining my connection to Source amid the noise and chaos of other people, Facebook, the negativity of our culture and so on. I’m disconnecting from some people slowly and that feels okay. I’m enjoying my new mentoring process and I’m enjoying leaning into Source and Self instead. I’ve really been growing a lot in my understanding of why I do things and what really fulfills me. Does this make sense one year later?

Then I went on to describe where Justin was, where Zeb was, the contrasting thriving and surviving of life in that moment.

But in the back of my mind was the thought, “WTF. That’s pretty much where I am now. This shit hasn’t changed in a year??” and started to really feel like a loser.

(Way to be spiritual Tara.)

Then I read this last paragraph:

I don’t feel I have much more to say (well, that’s not entirely true, but the TV is on and I’m hungry and Justin just got home from juggling at the U of O in Eugene and so I’m ready to get offline), except to tell you I think you are beautiful and amazing and that from my perspective and understanding, you shine and thrive when you connect to Source and move from the Divine place.

And with that the perfect Nugget o’ Wisdom I knew hit me again.

Life sucks ass sometimes. Shit happens. Things blow up or implode. I have meltdowns over toast and mascara smeared across my temples because I didn’t want to wash my face before bed. Money doesn’t come in. And that doesn’t stop it from going out. Bad days happen. So do bad weeks and months.

And it doesn’t matter.

It’s all the illusion of life that I swim in, not the Truth of Life that I actually dwell in. It’s the shroud of suffering I suffocate under, not the breath of fresh air I find without it.

And it’s okay.

Okay to swim in it. Okay to suffocate. Okay to drop the F-bomb when talking about spirituality. Okay to be human and have this human experience. I can have meltdowns over toast and scream at the top of my lungs that I’m being a crazy bitch over something as stupid as this. I can talk about the depths of our humanness with yesterday’s mascara clumped in my eyes.

But I don’t have to believe it all.

I can walk around as a dreamer in this dream, just lucid enough to remind myself to drop deeper. Trust bigger. Allow beauty. See the perfection.

These crazy moments are just crazy moments. They are not Truth, reality or a life sentence. Only my attachment to them keeps them around.

Only my choice to DIG IN, to lean in, to release creates the freedom from them.

And that’s what I want: to change what I can change. My experience of all this is totally mine.

I know this email will find you at the right time.

That it did, Self. That it did.

The only blog post in which I can talk about Rocky Horror Picture Show and the Ego in one breath (okay, maybe two)


This little piece of fringe culture has been on my Bucket List for like, 87 years. Literally.

Or it was on my Bucket List. Because we went recently and it was beyond epic. We sat out in the cold. We threw rice. We yelled profanities. And Justin even did the Time Warp (happily he has no rhythm, which made it that much better).

This weekend I’m getting my nose re-pierced. Something I’ve been wanting to do for nearly a flipping decade since I took my last one out.

Next spring I’m doing something so beyond epic that it makes me giddy and terror-stricken 4 months in advance. (I’m going to fly a glider plane. Yes, Mom. A GLIDER plane!)

These are just a few of the 31 things I wanted to do in the past 49.5 weeks.


ย (The whole – mostly unfinished lol – list is here.)

Last year I would’ve felt pretty lame and frustrated that so few things have happened, and not at all in my timeline. But so much has changed within me this year, that it just makes sense that it’s all coming to fruition these past few months.

Looking back, I can see quite clearly that Life took my requests and said in reply, “Okay, here’s what we get to do to make these things happen.”ย And then it set this giant mousetrap contraption into motion that catalyzed a string of events that has lead us all to this place, this time, this state of being. And now it’s all starting to come to fruition. (And who knows, maybe it’ll even be finished by next year.)

I knew I was going to learn how to Surrender when that Guiding Word chose me last year.

I had no idea it would turn out this good.ย 

I had no idea it would feel this easy. (You know, 9 months later. Cuz it wasn’t easy last January.)

I had no idea Life would bring us to a new home. Bring me to a new community. Bring me a library card. ๐Ÿ˜‰ Show me how to let those last shreds of fear go so that I could so completely love and accept myself, with all the weird and crazy things I want to do. Then introduce me to the people who would help me make them a reality. (Including a flight instructor, yo!)

I was talking over coffee with my local yogis about desires and the things we want, how sometimes our journey is to learn to let those things go, to practice non-attachment and release them in meditation. But how sometimes it’s just easier (and more fun!) to say “hell with it” and make them happen.

I’m doing a lot of that “making them happen” right now. But it’s different than ever before.

My goals and intentions and Guiding Words aren’t one big Ego trip now.

There’s no attachment to the outcome.

There’s no story of what they mean when they happen the way I plan or turn out radically different than I imagined.

They’re just things I’m having fun with. And if they go another way, I’m having fun in that direction too.

Looking back, I can see the practice it took to get to this point (while I remind myself I’m in no way “done”, nor should I resist moving past this point). It wasn’t like I could just have jumped into this (oh, I tried – talk about an Ego trip, just try “positively thinking” your way to enlightenment…no actually, don’t). I had to spend a lot of years in deconstruction mode.

But what I’m finding after all this deconstructing I’ve done in my own thoughts and beliefs is that the next step for me is NOT reconstruction…at least not from my mind. This feels a lot more like things are just doing their thing, building up around me, while I just watch and play. Nice for a change. ๐Ÿ™‚

One Bag of Tricks = One Thankful Stranger (and a whole lot of emotion)

It’s crazy how much this topic makes my heart pound and my stomach clench. My body was betraying me when it all went down yesterday and it has done it every time I think about it since, most especially as I try to relate it all to you. Obviously there are some things to DIG IN to here for me. ๐Ÿ˜‰

It all went down yesterday at Target. Zeb and I had just left our mama-son move date (Thor, if you’re curious) and were looking at bedroom furniture ideas for his new room, but of course that meant a detour through the LEGO/YuGiOh section of the toy department first.

As we’re standing there looking at droids, and speeders, and things I can’t remember the name of to save my life, I heard a tiny little guy from one aisle over crying loudly.

Now as a mama, my heart aches when any little one cries, because I understand beneath whatever the behavior is lies a whole lot of real, valid, strong, and often overwhelming emotion. It’s HARD being little, being dragegd around by the world, not able to make any choices yourself, completely at the mercy of your body’s limitations and your mouth’s inability to express itself, and your parent’s moods. (And let’s be honest parents: our moods aren’t usually that wonderful to little ones.)

My heart also aches for the parents, because again let’s be honest: handling a meltdown in the store is hard when all eyes are on you and you might very well have zero idea what’s happening in that little head/heart/body of theirs, while you’re also dealing with what’s happening in your own.

But as a human being, my mind likes to go places without my consent. It likes to create meaning and discern situations and think it knows what it’s talking about.

So when I heard the mom speak through gritted teeth to this little boy who couldn’t have been more than 18 months, and threaten him with the physical pain, public humiliation, and emotional fear of a spanking if he didn’t stop crying, while my heart ached harder, my head wanted to judge.

I wanted to judge this mom for not being patient.

I wanted to judge her for not listening and connecting with her little boy.

And I wanted to “save” this little boy.

So I can’t say I went into this situation with total compassion, but I certainly walked out with it.

I told Zeb to hold on and I pulled out of my purse my Mama Bag O’ Goodies. It’s a little pocket I rarely get to use that holds random, inexpensive, Sanity Savers. Stickers. A Wooly Willy. That kind of stuff.

wooly willy bag o' goodies

Then despite my clenched stomach and my pounding heart and my shaking hands, I walked an aisle over and gently said, “Excuse me.” I spoke to the little boy, unsure if he was of a verbal age or not. And I showed him the awesomeness of Wooly Willy. I showed him how to give him a mustache or hair, and how to hold it so it wouldn’t fall off.

He calmed down, eyes all big and gorgeous with the wonder of a strange, bald woman and this magical little toy, and gently took it from me, engrossing himself.

But it’s what happened next that humbled my big ol’ head.

This beautiful mama, who I hadn’t even done more than glanced at (out of my own fear that she would shoot me daggers) looked at me with eyes of relief and gratitude, and mouthed with earnest and emotion, “Thank you.”

And I was struck. Struck with my own awareness. Awareness that I had somehow in my head, without even realizing it, assumed her to be the “bad guy”, somehow separate from me, mean or angry. That I had created this separation between her and I, both of us mothers, a separation that said “We’re not the same, we don’t think the same, we don’t act the same, we don’t struggle the same.” I had failed to even look at her and so had fail to remember that we are exactly the same, that beneath our struggles we are both deeply conscious of our challenges and deeply desiring whatever it will take to love our children (all children) better.

I’m not a judgmental person. I wasn’t calling this woman names in my head. I wasn’t even really aware of the subtle stories my mind was telling about this woman. And yet my heart pounded because I was unconsciously experiencing those stories nonetheless.

It doesn’t surprise me that I have judgments. We all have judgments. They are the constructs of our mind, created to help us navigate safe versus dangerous, good versus bad, friendly versus stay-the-fuck-away. What does surprise me (other than the strength of my body’s reactions) was how quickly I can forget.

I’m thankful that it didn’t impact whether I approached them, or my kindness to her, but it has been a beautiful reminder to seek and see that love and light first, rather than be surprised that it’s once again right where it always is – within each one of us.

I was pretty touched by her energy. By the love and gratitude and connection I felt with her, mama to mama. So touched that I couldn’t hardly answer her and don’t even remember what I said. I know I whispered something small, something that I hoped conveyed the understanding and empathy I had for her, the love and strength I wanted to pass to her, the hug I wanted to give her, the reminder that she’s not alone.

Then I turned to see my own son, who is beginning to tower over me, standing at the end of the aisle, his eyes on the family with a kind smile, looking like he might have been absorbing it all too.

I didn’t say anything else, didn’t bring it up with Zeb for fear I might cry myself. We just went back to looking at furniture, waiting for my adrenaline to settle down, and pretending like it was no big deal.

But you know what? I think it was a very big deal.

Even when we’re self-aware and conscious of our thoughts, we can still pass judgments on each other that simply don’t belong before we even realize what has happened. Judgments that assume the sum of a person is boiled down to their current behaviors. Judgments that fail to look beneath the surface out of nothing more than righteousness. Judgments that help no one. No one. Not a single person.

If I had chosen to respond to her from the judgment I formed of who I thought she was, I probably would’ve been rude to her (even subtly), triggering her own indignation and strengthening her resolve against anything I might have been offering (and towards any possible thought she might have had that strangers are indeed judgmental asshats).

And if I had chosen to respond to my own fear of her response being just that, I might not have made a beautiful impact on their own mama-son day together. I would’ve lied to myself with statements like “it’s none of my business” or “there is nothing I can do” or “I’ll only make it worse“, instead of reaching out with all the love and empathy I can muster with a genuine desire to leave a positive impression on an otherwise stressful-as-shit parenting moment.

So regardless of how long of an impact I may or may not have had, I know choices like these to be a very big deal. Certainly to my own spirit, and quite possibly to theirs as well.

Upside Down Makes More Sense

Epic Storms, art journal,

their story is a cautionary tale
a monsoon thunderstorm dropping a deluge on the desert
bristling with electricity

most storms move fast
this one crept over whispering,
“Some things you learn best in the calm.
No two storms are the same.
No two skies are either, so watch closely.”

so I let go
and found it all upside down
and suddenly making sense

Have you ever had that sense? That everything is upside and off from the ways in which you thought it should be, and yet – without being able to articulate a damn word of it – you knew it all made sense.

This is the fact of Life.

It all makes sense. Always.

But what throws us around is our ideas of what should be. Our thoughts. Our expectations. Our demands. Swirling and upheaving the whole delicate balance of Nature, of our Nature.

It’s terrifying to let go, to find ourselves “without control”, to consider the idea that Life might carry us away – to what? For how long? And what will that mean? Who will I be? And most damagingly, what will others think?

Our thoughts needs to be turned upside down, shaken up, shaken out.

And if we’re holding so tightly to them, we’ll find ourselves turned upside, shaken up, shaken out right along with them. But that’s only when we’re so damn attached to our thoughts that we can’t tell the difference between them and us.

What happened the last time you let go of the thought being shaken up?

Did you, like most of us searching for it, suddenly find yourself in a state of peace?