Practice | Bonnie Barnard - Part 17

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Thirty Days of Thank Yous — The Reveal

Make Peace Brothers Singing Thank You Make Peace Brothers (www.makepeacebrothers.com) singing Thank You June 1st I posted my intention to write thirty thank you cards in thirty days. I was inspired by Patti Digh saying she writes one thank you note a day. I gave myself the challenge, and this is what I learned about myself: 1. Writing thank you cards created internal space — with each card written I had more energy. I discovered a thank you note felt like completing a transaction. It was like adding punctuation to a sentence. 2. I felt as though I were ordering more Grace from the Universe with each card. There is a power in the written word, as it is an idea that has taken form….from head to word. As I paused to honor those I resonated with; it was as though I were saying “this is it. I love this. I am open to more.” 3. I was unable to write one a day. My body would not let me. ...

Multi-Tasking and The Soul

An article in the Harvard Business Review states the following about multi-tasking: A study showed that people distracted by incoming email and phone calls saw a 10-point fall in their IQs. What’s the impact of a 10-point drop? The same as losing a night of sleep. More than twice the effect of smoking marijuana. Doing several things at once is a trick we play on ourselves, thinking we’re getting more done. In reality, our productivity goes down by as much as 40%. We don’t actually multitask. We switch-task, rapidly shifting from one thing to another, interrupting ourselves unproductively, and losing time in the process. This article is a fun and informative read. Click here to read it in its entirety https://blogs.hbr.org/bregman/2010/05/how-and-why-to-stop-multitaski.html I am writing a workbook on the Soul with the intention it will morph into a book after it has been “trial run.” Today’s focus is Spaciousness. Single-focused attention is one sure way to remove internal clutter and connect with inner Space. Mucho Amor,...

Bringing Love to It All

Most mornings for me begin with a several mile walk to a coffee shop, sitting in an overstuffed chair with an herbal ice tea in one hand and a book in the other, and then walking back home. Throughout this “me” time I am provided with an onslaught of insight about my life. I may remember who I’ve been or I experience being pulled into who I’m becoming. More often, I am practicing being present with each step and each breath. This year I turn fifty. I see this as permission to strip away and shed all voices except my One True Voice. Maybe they aren’t stripped or shed, but they certainly are encouraged to take second place to the One True Voice. She comes forward on occassion with some brilliant recognition, more often then not, she comes forward with a deep love and I translate that well of feeling into words. I have been working on a book, well several to be honest, and I haven’t liked the “voice” I’ve...

Art as a Form of Forgiveness

In the midst of it all she chose color I sat listening attentively, taking in the message of the room when the speaker read a poem she’d written celebrating her daughter’s pink hair. At first I felt a gulp in my throat followed by shallow breathing. With my stomach in knots and my heart aching, guilt began rising. I witnessed contrast. Where this loving mother had celebrated the bright colors of her daughter’s hair, I had criticized mine. Yes, my daughter also was one of the many with bold hair choices in her teen years. Beginning with her natural soft brown mane, she became pink, dark blue, and midnight black. My response? Not poetry and celebration. Criticism and shame. I was afraid of how she would be perceived by others and instead of my bold lead in beginning the love train, I felt a need to prepare her for “out there” which really reflected “in here.” I squandered an opportunity to love. Returning home I headed to my computer to write...

Thirty Thank Yous

My two years in solitude were really about two years of shedding. I started, pretty much at ground zero, and invited a continuation of digging and purging in consciousness; the most honest way I knew to honor the already demolished self. The process wasn’t really linear. Not like demolishing a home so a new one could be built on the same site. It was a process of allowing death to happen simultaneously with new life. This is where I choose the metaphor of shedding. Even that, I’m not sure is quite right. Anyhow, as I begin leaving the quiet dark and venture out into the Land of Doing, I am aware I live from a large chunk of intuition and a smaller portion of disciplined practice. I have been redicent with practices as my old self had a tendency of turning the opportunities for fresh possibilities into tyrranical tasks which had to get done. I promise myself with all practices, this new self will try them on and wear them a bit....