Hiya Pinkies (said with slightly less chipper tone than usual),

I've been having a rough week, as those of you who follow me on Facebook and Twitter may have realized. I'll give you more details about why soon, but suffice it to say that I think I'm going to have to let go of something I care for deeply. I will have to say goodbye to a dream. I will disappoint people and maybe even piss them off. I am mourning the loss of what I thought could be, realizing that I am attached to the fantasy, but the fantasy is not real. It exists only in my head.

How often do we do that? We love "the perfect guy" in our heads, but he's not really who we want him to be. We attach to a fantasy about friendships, jobs, even luxuries vacations. Christmas morning leaves us longing because our dream of what it would be like to be home with our families doesn't come true. We WANT to believe. And yet, deep down, we know that the fantasy lacks any basis in reality.

Right now, I'm in the discovery process- trying to sort out whether it's definitely time to let go of my dream or whether there's a kernel of hope to be salvaged. But in my gut, I think I know already. So I cry and sit with the sadness. Letting go is arguably the hardest thing we as humans do, isn't it?

I am- I know- a pretty positive person. I feel blessed to have the gift of seeing light in dark places, but we cannot always live in a world of roses and violets. Right now, I'm mourning. And yet, I have faith. I know that this is happening to open up room for something else. My path is forking, when I'm dead set on going straight. But why fight it? Better just to fork, maybe.

Let me tell you the good news. I've dropped hints about my sadness, to friends, to Pinkies. And my goodness! My inbox is FULL of loving people sitting silently with my story. Love, support, wisdom, and tears meet me right where I am. I am not alone- and neither are you. What we're doing here at Owning Pink WORKS! Losing my mojo this week has made me realize just how valuable what we are co-creating is, how beautiful it is to have this place, where loving kindness is our religion. The beauty of realizing that, while we are each unique, we share common threads that weave us together into a tapestry that warms us like a patchwork quilt. We are shifting something here, Pinkies- something is happening. I can feel it. And this week, I got to receive from Owning Pink what it is we have given birth to here. I can claim no credit for this community. All I did was set the intention- that we would hold a sacred space that would envelope the whole planet with love, safety, friendship, and trust. Everything else has been you. YOU are Owning Pink. And I have had pink blessings heaped upon me this week. I bow at your feet in gratitude.

One Pinkie sent me this, and somehow, I just know that this is meant for all of us.

The Invitation by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it. I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence. I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, 'Yes.'

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back. It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

Feelin' it,

Lissa