Expansion is my word for this year.

That means that no matter what I do, where I go, or what happens, I return myself to one intention: to expand.

When I chose the word expansion, I felt scared and ungrounded, perhaps even threatened. So I married my word to a few intentions to guide and support my growth. I picked:

1. Personal integrity
2. Choosing what’s so; and
3. Exploring possibilities

Personal integrity includes word, order, and boundaries.

• It means that I constantly align my expansion with that to which I’ve given my most sacred word.
• It means that I keep my mind, body, soul, spirit, and physical plane in good order to support my most sacred explorations.
• It means that I set clear and strong boundaries that support my highest intentions.

Choosing what’s so includes embracing what’s in front of me, taking action, and cultivating inner peace.

• It means that as I expand, I breathe into everything I face.
• I don’t resist, I don’t avoid, and I don’t neglect. I embrace, expand, and breathe.
• I meditate in tough times. I bathe in blissful moments. I think critically in moments of transition and uncertainty.
• I embrace what’s so and roll with it, all with the intention to expand.

Exploring possibilities means that I embrace adventure and exploration, my two favorite modes of expansion.

• It means that I say YES.
• It means that I take risks.
• It means that I try new things.
• It means that I take new routes.
• It means that I be, say, and do things that are fresh, unique, and unfamiliar.

Each of these supports the others and enables my 12-month exploration. When I’m lost or stuck, I return myself to them. I write about them. I reflect upon them. I share them with others.

I grow.

In love and liminality,

Annie Rose

I have to start where I am right now.

Right now I’m weird.

Weird is the word I use to describe myself when I’m not sure what I am or when I want to avoid what I really am.

So actually, I’m angry, sleepy, excited, inspired, and drained. Since that is a relatively weird mix, I can see why I’m weird.

I sat down to write my blog today and words poured out, but nothing landed.

I found myself editing, correcting, and thinking too much.

So I stopped, took a shower, and gave myself some space.

I realized that it was hard to write because I was trying to write from a space that I was not actually in.

I was trying to write from there when I actually was here.

If I try to be somewhere where I actually am not, I literally cannot be because being happens in the present moment, right here.

When I stop and pay attention to what’s happening right now, emotionally, mentally, and physically, I get to be. I get to be present. I get to be clear. I get to be grounded, rooted, and powerful. I get to be these things no matter what I’m emoting, thinking, or feeling.

Here is where I get to be as soon as I start being here.

In love and liminality,

Annie Rose

Two of the questions we pondered in the Being a Leader course were these:

Is my word generating something new?

Or is it keeping something in place?

I’ve been thinking a lot about these two questions and taking care in my own speaking—my own use of words—to notice what I use them for. I often use them to generate connection, acknowledgment, and transformation. When I do, I feel powerful and free.

I also use words—the same words, over and over again—as an exercise of habit. I say the same things about people, to people, to myself, and about my life. When I do, I feel in control, false, and flat. None of those things are bad, necessarily. They’re just not the same as free, true, and lively.

Today I sent someone an honest and not-so-nice email. It wasn’t hard to write. I’ve been frustrated for some time now, and I needed to say what I needed to say. It also wasn’t as not-so-nice as it could have been. I was somewhat careful with my words, not to keep something hidden, but to avoid generating something I wasn’t intending to generate.

I realized that although my email was not-so-nice, it was generating something new. Nothing I had said had worked so far. Everything I had said had fallen flat. It was time to say something distinct and to tap into some authenticity. I stopped being positive, and I got real. I got an unexpected result almost immediately after I clicked send.

I’ve noticed that in our current fascination with positive thinking, we often use our words to create positivity, gratitude, love, and other ways of being that occur to us as productive and worthwhile. Meanwhile, we limit ourselves from saying things we perceive as negative, fearful, angry, or otherwise. We belief that we can only generate something new by using words and collections of words that are positive. We avoid words we think are negative.

What if we can use any kinds of words to generate something new? What if generating something new is more about authentic expression and less about careful or positive expression?

What would our world look like if our authentic words comprised generative thinking, speaking, and acting?

In love and liminality,

Annie Rose

I’m currently taking the Money Seminar through Landmark Education. The intention of the seminar is to transform my relationship to money to one of freedom and power.

It does not teach me how to be rich, make money, or take care of my finances. Instead, it gives me access to transforming the way I relate to money. Pretty cool, I must say.

In the beginning of the seminar, I was instructed to write down my relationship to money. Here’s what I wrote:

• I don’t know how to make money.
• I have no idea how much money I’ll make.
• I have no control over how much money I’ll make.
• I don’t work hard enough to make money.
• People are poor or rich. Money is good or bad, right or wrong.
• It’s my fault I don’t have much money. (I’m lazy and incapable.)

I then wrote that I really love money! It provides security, comfort, ease, challenge (like a good puzzle), room for generosity, and space to easily do more (travel, etc.).

I also wrote that I really hate money! It’s scary. It’s out of my control. It’s the root of all evil.

The assignment then asked us to come up with a statement that captures our overall experience of money. Mine was clear: Money is elusive, troublesome, and completely out of my control.

Totally empowering, eh? I cannot imagine why I’ve resisted making and having money my whole life.

I also noticed a quirky habit of mine. When I have very little money and no stability, I spend more and act less responsibly. When I have more money and stability, I spend frugally and act more responsibly. That seemed strange to me—didn’t it make more sense to spend carefully in those moments of low income and financial insecurity? My actions seemed strange and out of my control.

Our next assignment asked us to write down our families’ relationship to money. For three pages, I wrote about my parents’ relationship to money, my grandparents’ relationship to money, and my own relationship to money. By the end, I had a super simple insight: While I was growing up, my mom always had very little money. She spent more than she had, and she sometimes acted irresponsibly. (Mind you, this is not necessarily the truth—this was based on my perspective as a little girl.) Meanwhile, my dad and stepmom always had enough money. Not a lot, but enough. They always spent frugally and acted responsibly with money.

 The habits I had formed for spending my own money were directly correlate to how I perceived my parents had spent their money. I simply inherited their habits and relationships to money.

This whole time I thought I was in charge. I thought I was the adult who made decisions about my financial lifestyle. But no. My brain was in charge, and it was programmed by a little girl. It told me what to do in various financial situations.

And my parents inherited their habits from their parents, and my grandparents inherited their habits from their parents, and my great-grandparents inherited their habits from their parents. None of us have been at choice. It’s a bit ridiculous, really.

The assignment then asked us to create a new possible relationship to money. If our inherited ideas and brains weren’t in charge, what would we create?

I began to explore. I wrote:

I know I love perfection. I love budgeting and sticking to a budget. I love the challenge of living inexpensively and taking care of my resources. I love giving money to people. I love having freedom. I love being mentally free from concern. I gain great satisfaction from paying my bills and still having money in my accounts. I love the look and feel of cash. I love being able to help people when they need help. I love giving gifts to people.

Through my journaling, I arrived at a point of inspiration.

I took on being at choice. I get to decide how I relate to, grow, and utilize my resources. I don’t have to please anyone, and I don’t have to feel guilty about my perceived shortcomings. I don’t even have any shortcomings—I just have my inherited, and certainly not created, relationship to money.

I also took on being cause in the matter of growing my financial resources. This means that I can take clear, steady actions towards realizing my financial goals. I don’t have to pay attention to any of the pesky voices that try to convince me that money is elusive, troublesome, and completely out of my control.

I get to make money, and I get to have fun doing it.

My life already feels different!

The seminar has ten sessions, and tonight is my fourth. I’ll keep you posted as I have insights and continue to transform my relationship to money!

In love and liminality,

Annie Rose