Jump In

Once upon a time this was The Wisdom Seekers, oh oh, before that Come On Baby Light My Fire. Now is the time for Action. Jump In.

We’re here because we want to be successful in our chosen field, or to find what rings our chimes.

Living Life on one’s own terms is the ultimate success.

The First Step:


Long ago I said, “If Tony Robbins holds a seminar teaching people to walk on water, I’ll take it, but walking on hot coals? No way.

To further my fear, my teacher in San Diego did a fire walk–not with Tony—and I watched as she agonized over blisters.

Fast forward 20 years. I did a fire walk with Tony Robbins and decided if I could walk on fire, I could do anything.

Well, maybe not anything, but you get the idea. It’s facing one’s fears and doing it anyway. However, don’t be stupid. Don’t go running around doing dangerous things to prove you can do it–like dying in a sweat lodge. FEAR has been built into us to protect us. The point is that sometimes FEAR is misplaced, and we hold ourselves back rather than push through.

Imagine planting your delicate tootsies on a mass of red-hot coals. I don’t care if it’s a sweat layer on the bottom of your feet that protects you, the physics of it, or if it’s smoke and mirrors. It’s scary. And it demands a certain mindset.

Once I decided I was going to walk on that fire even if it meant burning my feet off, I gave my chest a thump for power, aimed for the far distant shore, and walked across hot coals as easily as walking on popcorn.

It was midnight in San Jose California when some 13,000 people walked on fire with me. There were many paths filled with hot coals, and a fire team with wheelbarrows bringing in more red-hot cinders, so the coals glowed red the entire time, and the group moved along quickly.

You focus your mind on that green grass on the other end, and walk, but don‘t fall down.

On that distance shore—about 12 feet away—friendly helpers pour cold water over your feet, and other jubilant participants, having just completed their fire walk, hug you.

Everyone was proud of their accomplishment, and even a couple of kids did it. (With parents.)

Remember, it isn’t about walking on hot coals, it’s taking that first step.

Well, the hot coals are there blocking your passage, but once your foot lands on glowing embers, you can bet your bottom dollar you will take a second step, and so on until you reach the other side.

I am here to encourage you to take the first step, and lead you to the second, third, and so on until you reach your desired goal. Then I will hug you. Maybe send a kiss over a wire.

We will be jubilant.

See, I even mustered the courage to write this course.

Perhaps you haven’t walked on hot coals, but I bet you have walked through the fire of human experience.

Few make it through unscathed.

Don’t compare yourself to those supposedly fabulous souls that appear on social media. They get up in the mornings grumpy and haggard sometimes, their sex life isn’t as fabulous as they would make us believe, and they get diarrhea sometimes while traveling to all those fabulous places and eating exotic foods. Planes can be late, connections sometimes missed, and the kids whine.

There are upsides, of course, I just wanted to put it into perspective. Life won’t always be glamorous, but it can be damn good.

If you want to live the life you have always imagined, we are here to assist that process, light a fire under you, recharge your batteries, whatever—you decide.

I thought I knew what I wanted when I began Dominika and Cedric’s course Trailblazer. I still do. I want to blog, and write books, and make a living doing that. I would love the freedom to live wherever I choose, doing the work I love.

Isn’t that what most of us want?

Well, we want to live with Sympatico people too, have the love we desire and live a happy life.

A tall order, huh?

I believe it’s possible.

I found in my search, that while I wanted to write this course, not to copy Trailblazer or the many others that have come before, but something akin to the words of Henry David Thoreau:

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”


Our woods, our wilderness, is here on these pages. It is plowing through the debris that is standing in our way.

You know, those limiting beliefs, that negative self-talk that rings in our ears 8 hours every day?

“What makes you think you can do, be and have your heart’s desire? You don’t know the right people. You aren’t talented enough, or skilled enough. And what in the heck do you want to do anyway, you have no direction, no focus? You aren’t smart enough, young enough, old enough, or live in the right place. Don’t we have to pay our dues?”

I have taken more seminars, workshops, courses, and training programs than you can shake a stick at. (Words of my mother. Although I still don’t know what that means.)

Those courses have been treasures for me, some good, some trying, some downright annoying, but after soaking up their information, (take what you want, leave what you want), I decided it was time to stop sucking up information and pour some out.

And when we find something beautiful, we don’t hold it secretive, silent, tight against our chest, no, we run out and tell or show somebody.

If something is standing in your way, do what your kids do with their video games, blast it out of the way.

Let’s live the life we have dreamed.

A long ago I read in Clyde Bristol’s book, The Magic of Believing, “When we begin weaving, the gods will provide the skein.” And it became a mantra for me.

It appears that the universe likes action, and when you decide what it is you want, it will conspire to help you.

To begin the clearing process, let’s answer this one question (posed by Tony Robbins.):

Whose Love Did You Crave the Most, Your Mother’s or Your Father’s?

The love you craved the most will greatly form the structure of your being, for you will contort yourself to please that person.

My father left when I was three-years-old to join the military. He figured that he would soon be drafted, so he decided to get a jump-start for he wanted to be in the Navy. He found, though, to his surprise, that he was color blind, and thus was not suitable for the Navy. Strange, for he was an artist. No wonder he did a lot of pencil drawings.

He ended up in the Army.

After the war, he came to me for a brief visit where he took me to the circus, bribed the hawker to let me win a golden horse statue, bought a little Tweetie bird on a string that he dissected when we got home—to find its tweeter—then disappeared from my life.

My parents divorced, we moved from Illinois to Oregon, my mother remarried, and I didn’t see my father for 38 years.

One might assume that, with an absent biological father, I would crave the love of my father, but I don’t think so. I think it was my mother’s love I craved.

My life depended on her.

In asking yourself that question, you discover how you contorted yourself to get the love you needed.

We still do that. Throughout our lives, we try to please others.

What if, instead, we decide how we want to be. We decide what we want.

It’s our life after all.

I wanted to please my mother. I was a good kid. I didn’t give her any flack. I protected her, I thought. She was a good mom, but embarrassed her entire life that she had me at 16, and hid from me that she “had” to get married.

Kids know.

There was an awkwardness between us. Strange how you accept what is when you are a child. However, you aren’t a child anymore, and now you can look back on it with adult eyes.

I didn’t realize how much I wanted my mother to love me. I didn’t understand why we didn’t make a big deal out of my birthday the way other parents did.

Now I know.

I wonder though, did I gravitate to art because my father was an artist, or is it in my genes? No matter, I saw him as intriguing, curious, dabbling in taxidermy, drawing portraits for the soldiers during the war, writing beautiful letters home to me with bunny rabbits drawn across the bottom of the page.

I wonder if his dissecting the Tweety bird, and stuffing animals—small animals, birds found dead, or squirrels, led me into biology. (I have a half-sister who majored in biology as well. Was that coincidence or what?)

I guess three years with him and the rest of my life without him shaped me. I desired to be like him, inquisitive, curious, inventive, an artist. He loved animals and was interested in what makes them tick. Again nature or nurture?

Thirty-eight years after he left, I called him in Chicago, “Hi, this is Joyce, I used to call you Daddy a long time ago.”

God, I was nervous.

He welcomed me with open arms as did his wife Vi. My husband and I visited them every day for the next three days, carrying in fish and chips, or some such, and I took him to an Optics Conference so he could see the instrument my husband was showing. That was our reason for the trip.

This may sound nostalgic, but I learned a lot by writing this. I wondered for years if my father ever thought of me—then when I met him he had pictures of me, and one of my mother. I was shocked when he showed me a picture of my young mother and said, “Wasn’t she beautiful?”

I’m saying all this because FIRST, before the trip, and with no inkling that a trip was in my immediate future, I completed an exercise clearing out negativity regarding my dad. I wrote it out. I wrote what I thought about him, how I felt he had abandoned me, how I wish he loved me, and how I wished he wanted me. A short time later that Optics Conference came galloping in like a white charger.

Do you have an issue, a hurt, or injury that could be written out, the pros, cons, good aspects, and horrible ones? Write until you have exhausted the subject. Writing puts a period at the end of the sentence instead of the cycling it as the mind is want to do.

I decided to join my husband on his trip, for I had said for years if I was ever in Chicago I would look up my dad. So I did.

Old Bristol knew it, “When we begin weaving the gods will provide the skein.” The universe conspires to help us.

I found that the clearing process opened up possibilities and allowed me, after 38 years, to visit my dad.

This is called Inner Work.

It is playing with the universe.

So, Let’s answer question number one:

Whose love did you crave the most, your mother’s or your father’s? (Thanks Tony)

This might possibly lead you into that one issue that has been pecking at you. You know the one, the one that if it no longer troubled you your life would fall into place.

You know it’s never that simple, but one must begin someplace. But then, maybe it is that simple.

Use a new clean (or dirty, I don’t care) spiral notebook and write until your heart’s happy.

You will find that I place much emphasis on writing out your thoughts, although I said there would be no workbooks. Many people resist the writing process, but I bet you will find that is it most helpful.

Whose love did you crave the most, your mother’s or your father’s?

Do it!

Keep scrolling…

I just felt a disturbance in the force.

I bet you are exhausted. Have a cup of coffee, or tea, or vino—hey I don’t judge–prop your feet up, and see that whatever happened in the past you can take or leave.

It’s a choice.

Whoopie do. Now go to Module 2

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