Greetings Everyone,

Are we back into the swing of things since the holidays? Usually, January nearly finishes before our enterprises get rolling, again. Brrrring it on, February!

Seven days a week, I begin my work time by listening to mini-biographies and poems read by mellifluous-voiced Garrison Keillor. If you want to enjoy the poetic fireplace pleasures only he can inspire, take a quick review of The Writer’s Almanac. You may register for the daily email at <americanpublicmedia.us>.

We live in a colossal and fascinatingly creative time. I frequently ask, 'Okay, what is important today?' More times than not, I come up with the simple what I spend time feeling and thinking attract more of the same.

We Earthlings are witnessing our own participation in the certain evolving epoch we are together creating, brimming with energy for attracting a dazzling dynamo of differing ideologies, and disclosing our hearts to intention’s dance of elegantly quickened "Surprise!"

The Unvoiced

Rummaging through the invisible closet of childhood memories appeared my neighborhood boyfriend and me swinging on the swing set in his backyard. We did that a lot. We were eight years old, singing a song over and over…

Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream.

We had a few male-like conversations starting and ending with, ‘I donno what that means.’ I am guessing we enjoyed singing more than understanding.

I have not forgotten the indescribable, radiant feelings while swinging and singing that song at eight... as if thousands of pings set off faint tingles all over my insides. Those intimate instances were among my first signals of “Surprise!”

Maybe those silent pings were awakening streams of sensibility; lilting dreams of music between the universe and me, or pulsing delight only the young may summon from delicately Unvoiced serendipity.

Next time, we will consider the meme for which Americans apparently don't yet have a forum :: the process of grieving the loss of one world for the next being conspicuously conceived.

Listening Voice

When a coach starts out coaching, it is not unusual to accept a client or two who unexpectedly become a bit more than the coach is ready for. That happened to me some seven years ago.

The second month of coaching Jane became a bit tedious for us both. Jane is fictitious, by the way. She was so stuck in her story that no matter how long I sat quietly listening, or gem of inspiration I finally spoke, no idea seemed to reach above the unflattering line of lame.

I had become a tad impatient with myself during one of our sessions. Although I was sitting down with my mouth closed, on the inside I was standing up shouting, ‘Is this what coaching is about?’

As quickly as a butterfly can lift off a flower, I heard the inner reply, “You are not the listener. I am.”

Well, I nearly fell out of my chair! What a “Surprise!” From that moment on, I gave myself permission to remain quietly attentive with a few uh-huh’s thrown in, and to speak only when nudged whether I knew what was about to come out of my mouth.

Passion's Voice

This is what I do between newsletter publications. Thousands of words are read; hundreds of words are practice-written daily, followed by edits; relevant topics are conferred; Internet interviews and current documentaries are watched. All for the love of writing from synthesized information and feelings, and for noticing the rush of faint synchronicities that appear after focused thought. Can you hear your voice of passion?

• Where does your passion show?
• Did your clients hire you for it?
• Do friends witness it?
• What is your level of esteem for the passions expressed through you?
• Are you aware passions are fathomless energies?

  Have you a coach to help language the voice of your passion?

...Well? I would love to hear from you!

Our constant curiosity is key
to watching what's being created.  ~ DM