Unsolicited Advice Letter to Self

Dear self,

I want to take this chance to tell you some advice I think you should hear.

I know you’ve never been one for arbitrary new beginnings like January 1st, but I also know this New Year thing still works on you.

Every single person in the calendared world has this chance to start fresh. I think it’s mostly in our minds — don’t you? — but that’s where it all starts anyway.

So here are a few little pieces.


Select All. Delete.

Here is a chance to be untemplated, to throw your umbrella off the bridge, to start again with a fresh page.

No, it’s not scary. Whatever you’re doing, it gets better when you Delete. You never lost anything good with any of those WordPress crashes because the real Good is what you’re packing with you wherever you go. Delete and you only make more space to create.

This year, today, right now — delete, create, start.


Be the salvation.

God that was horrible, the Most Lonely and Miserable year of our life. That year after the breakup when you were morose and single and thought you’d never meet anyone again and yet that’s all you wanted, all your attention flowing outward to the magical imaginary other who would come and save you from your lonely misery.

Be your own knight. Be your own princess, adoring fan, devoted partner, teacher, authority, power. Sweep yourself off your feet.

Yes, you learned lots and grew really strong that year. Be the salvation and teach yourself all there is to know.

I don’t have other specifics here. Like love, you’ll know it when you feel it. And you already feel it.


Put your oxygen mask on.

You’re allowed to give advice to other people on one condition only: that it’s the advice that you needed to hear, that you yourself followed, and that you’re still breathing right this moment.

There are a lot of whacked out martyrs out there. Not to mention hypocrites.

We saw some crazy ones this week. She was a little too proud that she didn’t wash her own hair for 6 weeks because she was too busy serving others.

Give yourself air. Make sure it’s the good kind you’re inhaling before you start telling other people how to breathe.


Ride the hub not the rim.

We want to follow our bliss when it takes the form of pleasure — when it makes us feel strong and attractive and good. Most of us abandon ship when the pathway to bliss routes through something ugly and swampy. Me included. You included.

The wheel of fortune has a topside and a bottom — it’s a regular round wheel with spokes and a rim after all.

Don’t let yourself get run over by this wheel, crushed like a poor little ant slavishly going about its daily work.

Example: you loved writing this email newsletter until a few random someones unsubscribed. Then you felt touchy and thought maybe you should try another project. The unsubscribes or subscribes never changed the bliss of writing, they never touched the hub of the wheel, but were only little bugs or diamonds stuck to its rim as it rolled on.

Keep steady where the hub is, that center that never moves. This is where you find fortune, not at the top of the rim, and not under its bottom.

What happens when you follow your bliss?

You come to bliss.


Permission granted.

Give someone in your life permission. Then give it to yourself.

You hear No a lot. Mostly bouncing around inside your head, but that’s plenty. You heard it in there just today even. Some Don’ts also. Some Shoulds and Shouldn’ts too.

Select All. Delete. Reformat the No/Don’t/Should/Shouldn’t template with two words: Permission Granted.


Say yes to your adventure.

That’s it, just say yes.

Happy 2014.



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