Speaker 1: 0:13

Aloha and welcome to your Heart Magic, an illuminating space where psychology, spirituality and heart wisdom meet. Here's your host, Dr Bethann Kapansky-Wright, the clinical psychologist with a mystic mind.

Speaker 2: 0:33

Aloha everybody, welcome to your Heart Magic. This is Dr Bethann Kapansky-Wright, and we have a talk story time episode today where I will be sharing a couple passages from my work and sharing some thoughts behind them. I always enjoy doing Talk Story Time episodes because I get to share all sorts of poetry and prose and essays from all sorts of different work that I've had throughout the year, some of it published, some of it not published. But, more importantly, I was reflecting that I'm so often in teaching mode and speaking mode and a little bit more of a formal capacity or in a way where I have an organized point that I want to impart and to be able just to share and do open reflections. I don't script any of this. I just pick the pieces that I want to share and allow whatever wants to come out to be a free thought and a free share during this time, which is the idea of what Talk Story is all about. And so today I have two different essays that I want to share and they were both written during the winter season in Alaska, right around December and the holiday time, and at the time when I was writing those pieces I was so heavily inspired by nature and by the environment that I was surrounded in, and so that was kind of my spark of inspiration inspiration. I live in Kauai now, so there's not quite the seasonal change that we used to have in Alaska talk about from going to one extreme to the other right, but it's really fun to be able to go back to some of the stories I wrote when I was living up there and share the voice of my slightly younger self and some of the stories of winter time in Alaska and the wisdom that it inspired. So this first one that I want to share today is called Welcome, joy. This was written in December of 2013.

Speaker 2: 2:35

And 2013 was a really interesting year for me, a very changeful year, one where I had gone through a lot of different kinds of heartbreaks and different kinds of grief and was really learning that lesson that we're not here to live life on our own terms. We're here to live life on life's terms, and yet we can still continue to work with what life is bringing us our way and learn to find peace in the middle of change and learn how to become bigger through these experiences. So this was a year that had really stretched my heart, and I had recently lost an old dog that I absolutely loved. I've written about Peppy. I called him Dog in my writing, with a capital D of course, right, a capital D Dog, and he was my ever present, my best friend, my companion at the time, and so I've shared quite a bit about him throughout the years on the podcast and in my work. And this was maybe about six, seven, eight weeks after he was gone, and I had just recently adopted Frodo, who was really more of a pup at the time, and I called him pup in my writing about him, and sometimes I called him Kintsugi pup, and I'll share the story behind that in a minute. But that gives you a frame of reference for this piece that I'm about to share. Welcome, joy.

Speaker 2: 4:02

I try not to place expectations on myself for how I should feel during the holiday season, mostly because there is nothing worse than expecting yourself to feel festive if you are not indeed feeling festive, and I don't like the idea that a season should dictate how one should feel. The free spirit inside of me strongly feels festivity should not be prescriptive, but free-flowing, spontaneous, bubbling up from within. As I was taking a walk tonight watching my Kintsugi pup trot along with complete happiness and wild enjoyment. I realized that I don't expect, but I desire to feel a sense of festivity this season, childlike faith, unfettered joy. I wish to be enchanted by life and love, by things bigger and grander than just myself and my cloudy thoughts as of late. I, like Pup, wish to trot along with complete happiness and wild enjoyment. I want my miracle on 34th Street, my it's a Wonderful Life, my Charlie Brown Christmas. I want the magic this season.

Speaker 2: 5:20

Somebody once told me I have one of the youngest and oldest souls they have ever known. It's true, this observation, I think. I know I have the capacity for an unsullied, unfettered joy, mixed with an aged, discerning wisdom that likely falls beyond my years. I also know that I haven't been living up to this capacity in quite some time, not through any intention, lack or apathy on my part, more from the twist and turns life has brought. Joy becomes gritty when life gets heavy. Lately I have been wondering where my joy is gone, this childlike ability I used to have to delight in the tiny, magical wonders of life. I told somebody the other day I feel like I've lost my thrum, that marvelous, whimsical connectivity that makes my heart feel like it is galloping free in pure delight, echoing in time with the deep beat of the earth. Where, oh where, did that go? Perhaps the season shouldn't dictate how one feels, but as I was walking along tonight, staring at the soft hues in the sky that say snow will soon arrive, looking at the colorful light strung up among the houses, watching the tiny ball of fluff in front of me frolic and play so carelessly, I realized that I choose to breathe in the spirit of this season and glean inspiration. So I sent my joy an invitation of return. Dear Joy, we are so very sorry about the difficult tectonic situations this past year that led to your accidental dislocation. We warmly welcome you back and eagerly await your expected return. We have left our heart open for you and have strung up a few extra lights to help guide you on home. Home, love Ba and Pup. Xoxo. Ps. There is a plate of warm cookies and a glass of almond milk waiting for you.

Speaker 2: 7:32

I realized, as I let inspiration from the winter's night flow, that I had a first class ticket to joy. Darting in and out of the snow, this wonderful, new little creature who goes by so many names, but who I sometimes call Kintsugi pup. Abandoned and rejected, given a chance at new life, new gold to fill the cracks in his heart. By this gold-filled heart, he seems to know little but joy, curiosity, happiness and absolute wonder at the new world that has opened up to him. Since I welcomed him into my home a month ago, his daily presence in my life has tugged at my heart, reminding me of vulnerability, innocence, trust and belief in something bigger and more magical than myself. For Pup, every day is magic. Perhaps he is my miracle on 34th Street, his warm pup joy rubbing against and smoothing the calluses on my tired heart. Perhaps my miracle is already sitting inside my heart, simply waiting for me to take a long pause, clear out the clutter of the days so I have better eyes to see and realize it is right there, hoping expectantly I will soon find it. Maybe I will realize my joy never did go anywhere. Maybe it was simply I who moved away from it. Either way, and come what may, I have an open heart, the light of Kintsugi pup at my side and the magic of the season at hand.

Speaker 2: 9:11

I called Frodo my Kintsugi pup, and that was based on a piece I wrote called A Kintsugi Pup for my Kintsugi Heart, and the year 2013 was the year that that particular art form of the Japanese art of Kintsugi of taking broken pottery and using gold to fill the cracks and make it into a new piece. And so something that was once broken starts to become more with these veins of liquid gold in it and it becomes even more perfect. And it's imperfection and that idea of a metaphor for navigating heartbreak and navigating life's breaks and chips. Right, we have these things that happen to us and they chip away at us and they create crack lines and fault lines within us and sometimes we go through something and we feel like our heart will never heal.

Speaker 2: 10:08

But I love the idea of seeing love as the liquid gold, that if I could find a way to keep my heart open to love, to life, to self-love, to any aspect of love Love has a million faces, so it didn't matter how I kept my heart open to love. Even contracting and going within with the intention of rewilding self-love and hibernating is an act of love. It was more seeking the face of love, even in challenges, and I'd really worked with that metaphor that year and come to see that, with love as my liquid gold, my heart was like that broken pottery that was pieced together with gold. It was becoming more beautiful and more nuanced and more whole and perfect, and its imperfections and with its flaws. And so when I had got Frodo and adopted him, he had a snaggle tooth and was kind of weird looking and scraggly looking.

Speaker 2: 11:08

You know, I always went for the unique looking dogs and the unique looking things in life and I had heard from the adoption center that he'd been there a while because nobody wanted him. They wanted like cuter puppies and little dogs that were a little bit more shiny and polished and without the snuggle tooth and all of that. And so that really spoke to the part of my heart that was working with my flaws. And you know, don't we all just want to be loved because of our flaws, like not in spite of them, but for somebody to see us and our wholeness and completion and see that our flaws also make us so beautiful and they make us unique. And I saw that in Frodo. He was such a wonderful mirror for me at the time and so as a writer I translated that into this piece of calling him my Kintsugi pup and narrating my pieces that I wrote at the time with that is his name and that was this metaphor for where I was at in my life how I saw him, and so that is the mention of Kintsugi pup in this piece, and I really felt like I'd misplaced my joy that season. When I read through this piece now and reflect on some of what I was expressing, I can also very honestly say that it was Alaska.

Speaker 2: 12:22

In December, there is a handful of daylight hours, and I was working quite a bit. I had quite a bit of heartache that year. There was a lot going on, and so there was some environmental and seasonal elements that made it even harder to find joy, like you really had to search for it, and I felt like my heart was this wounded, battered, just tired, sort of weary shoulder at the time. And then we've got Frodo, though, who doesn't care about any of that. He was so new to the world and new to my world. Care about any of that.

Speaker 2: 12:57

He was so new to the world and new to my world, and he would go to the office with me and had learned very quickly that he had to be on his good behavior during client hours. But then after work he'd be like what are we doing, mom? Let's have an adventure, let's take a walk. And he would drag me outside when it's pitch black out and cold and want to walk around the neighborhood. And it was so good for me because, even though I didn't feel like it, it made me find the little gifts in the day. And I see that in that piece. I see where walking him made me look at the stars in the sky and the bright lights on the houses and connect with his enthusiasm and his joy over just exploring and doing simple things. Dogs are such wonderful teachers of that.

Speaker 2: 13:40

And so I was really looking for my joy in this piece and doing what I often did at the time and that was using writing to try and tap into seeing things from a higher perspective, even if I didn't necessarily feel like it. So my intention that season was like I want the magic, I want the miracle, even if it feels a little grittier, even if it's not quite as easy to grab onto. I want to stay intentional about that and I still find that life lesson to be true. And I still find that life lesson to be true. I think that there are times that we cannot force ourselves to feel lighter if we're not feeling it, but we can try and open our mindset and open our hearts and say all right, even if happiness or joy feels a little gritty today and it's not quite this unbridled childlike enthusiasm and things don't feel carefree, I still want to welcome in experiences and access as much of those feelings as I can right now, because a little bit of that is better than nothing at all. And maybe I'll even surround myself with a little fur being or people or objects or things, games, toys, something that maybe help me connect with that a little bit easier if I'm having a hard time finding it within myself. So that ties in with the next piece that I'm going to share and it's called Snow Falling Unhappy, and it echoes a similar theme as this piece. It's the idea that sometimes happiness and joy, it's a little bit gritty, but it doesn't mean that we can't develop an eye for it and it doesn't mean that we can't make space for it. And this piece was also written in the winter of 2013, but I cleaned it up some and there is a newer version in my book, small Pearls, big Wisdom, and that's the version I'm going to share today. By the way, that first piece that I shared was from a blog that I used to keep called Sunshine and Winter and it's still active. I don't write on there very much but both of these pieces were originally from that blog and I never did anything with Welcome Joy. But this one that I'm sharing I did clean up and fold it into my latest work. So it's so fun to see that voice of my younger self be kind of polished up and put in a recent publication.

Speaker 2: 16:11

Snow Falling Unhappy. Sometimes happiness falls softly, like a gentle, unexpected layer of snow that falls in the night. We wake up surprised and delighted to find it there. Happiness didn't arrive the way we expected. We thought happiness might come in with a bang, a giant marching band of cheerful noise and cacophony announcing its triumphant entry, while majorettes twirl batons and a kick line keeps time. Instead, happiness comes modestly, like Carl Sandburg's fog creeping in on little cat feet. It slides in unannounced. Perhaps it's quieter than the happiness of days past. It is more deeply rooted in peace and satisfaction from the lovely garden we are busy tending to in our inner worlds and noble, quiet lives. It is not contingent on any one person, idea or plan for our life. It is gracious and accommodating to whatever the now holds.

Speaker 2: 17:17

When we are younger, happiness often feels breezy and reckless A young puppy tearing through the house in abject glee, unaware of any havoc he may cause. You can't help but smile at his hasty joy, even while you yell at him to get off the couch and notice the yellow puddle he left on the floor. Sometimes we get so used to equating happiness with that wild, carefree state that we are unprepared for the unceremonious arrival in the middle of the night. Happiness simply entered in on her own accord, helped herself to a cup of warm-hearted tea and settled into our guest room. This version of happiness is gentle and wise. She grasps the bigger picture in life. She understands that life's grit might make joy weightier, but it also makes it substantive and real. She doesn't turn a blind eye to the grit, the feelings of loneliness, the ghost of heartache, her greater awareness of the sorrows in this world. She calmly accepts these things instead of avoiding them and simply allows herself to experience happiness anyway. She is peaceful like snow falling gently outside. She accepts the cadence of life and has a depth of experience that allows her to know on a heartfelt, cellular level that seasons do turn. This isn't a flashy sort of in the moment happiness. There's no artifice, no falsity, no shallow foundation. It's richly nuanced, judicious, circumspect, deeply rooted, quiet and unexpected. Like the arrival of the snow's magic in the night, amicably glowing and warming our hearts, she gently makes space for herself in our lives. One day we realize that out of nowhere we notice a deep-rooted sense of quiet happiness. It is a very good day.

Speaker 2: 19:26

I haven't read the original version of that in a while. I cleaned it up somewhere well, along this publication journey and the heart of the piece is the same, but I can definitely hear my voice of now woven into that and that some of the ideas that I was playing with in that first piece were echoed when I wrote that second piece. I wrote them sometime in the exact same season and, as you can feel and hear in the words, I was really introducing and learning that wisdom that sometimes life is really gritty and it doesn't prevent us from saying like life isn't good, life isn't black and white, right, it's all of it. And in that wholeness we can say this grit is going on and sometimes life is a little bit dirty and a little bit muddy and I can find joy anyways. But reading those words today, I hear a decade worth of relearning that lesson over and over, woven into the piece that made it into the publication of my latest book, and I think that what's really lovely when I share these pieces with you is to see that some of the things that I'm still writing about and perspectives that I've really come to build a foundation on for myself, I'm still learning those lessons.

Speaker 2: 20:47

And love wears a million faces. So does wisdom, and I suspect that's because wisdom is really rooted in love. Right, love is truth and truth is love, and wisdom are these truths that prove to be timeless in our life, and the intention of love, of wisdom, of truth is to continue to free us so we can become a more authentic expression, even if it's not easy wisdom. And so, going back to what I said, wisdom wears a million faces because wisdom is a face of love, and so I will see these pieces and see that some of the things I was tapping into, they're timeless wisdoms, they're not unique to me. I'm just using my own language and metaphors to talk about things like what is happiness, what is meaning, things that have been mused about in the collective of the human archaeology and experience, and galactic wisdom and spiritual wisdom for since eternity, and so this is kind of my take on the matter and for myself as just my own personal development.

Speaker 2: 21:57

It's always fun to share these stories and say in many ways I've changed so much since I wrote those pieces and in other ways I am the exact same Beth Ann at my core and I still very much believe that we can seek for joy even in life's grit, and I want to seek for joy even in life's grit. One of my goals this holiday season is to find the joy that I can, and it is to look for where the light is shining, to notice the beauty. I want the magic and I am opening my heart to whatever magic does come through over the course of the next few weeks and the holidays and the solstice season and the full moon that's coming up and all the magical calendar dates and opportunities where something might happen that really tugs at our heart and we see the interworking of synchronicity and spirit and life's mysteries and see that something bigger than us has a hand in what's going on in our lives. That's the magic and I'm here for it, regardless of what else is happening. I am here for it and it is my wish for anybody who listens to and accesses these words that you are here for it too, and that you are able to keep finding your joy and your magic and your happiness and your own unique ways with your own unique Kintsugi heart.

Speaker 2: 23:27

So thank you so much for joining me in today's podcast. I will be back next week and we will be finishing our tarot series. We are moving on to the last card in the major arcana the world, and we will be talking about what does that card mean? And I will share some thoughts on the series as a whole as we go through this completion of the major arcana and the archetypes of the tarot. So, with that, have a beautiful week and, as always, be well, be love, be you and be magic.

Speaker 1: 24:11

You've been listening to your Heart Magic with Dr Bethann Kopansky-Wright. Tune in next week for a new episode to support and empower your light.