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I’ve been immersed in a life-changing program called “Coherence Lab” ably captained by Fabeku Fatunmise. When I say life-changing, I mean the way I see myself, my work and my life has all been tossed up into the Universe and I’m putting the pieces together as they fall back down. In the Lab, Fabeku talks about the concept of BIGNESS which he defines as “the clearest part of you that’s most connected to your power and potency.”

What does it mean to live into your BIGNESS? It means choosing love over fear every time. It means being willing to be seen. It means being willing to take up space.

It means bringing that part of you out in every possible instance and not being affected by fear. “BIGNESS sees possibilities that smallness can’t ever see,” Fabuku says.

The last two months have crystallized work I’ve been doing for years, looking at what it means to be seen. I’ve asked the Universe and my Guides to assist me with that work and help me take the big leap.

So, it did.

INGLEWOOD - FEBRUARY 19: Prince performs live at the Fabulous Forum on February 19, 1985 in Inglewood, California. (Photo by Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images)

(Photo by Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images)

Last Thursday, I was online when the reports of Prince’s death started making the rounds and I just flat out went into shock. Prince has been a presence in my life since I was 19 and his music has been my soundtrack. It was like time stood still and all I did was read online comments and cry.

Part of me knew that this grief, this extraordinary grief, was not just about Prince, although he was the catalyst for it. It was about losses never truly mourned when my dad died (I was 14) and when my goddaughter Lauren died in 2006. All of it came rushing to the surface and almost took me down.


When the dust cleared, I came to understand this event, the work I’ve been doing and how it was dovetailing together. All three of those pivotal people in my life, my dad, goddaughter and Prince, lived their BIGNESS. Without apology. Sure, it looked different in them all but each one fully expressed his or her self with potency and power.

When the biggest part of the grief had ebbed away, I was not the same person. I wasn’t. I knew that the work I did leading up to this plus the shock release of enormous grief catapulted me to the other side really fast. My part was to feel the deep well of sadness and keep walking forward.

I spent the better part of three days posting on FB about my grief and sadness worrying that I was bothering people with it all. Here’s what I shared:

I have been feeling really bad about “spamming” everyone’s FB wall with my sorrow and grief over Prince. I know that’s my smallness talking – it’s the part of me that is scared to take up space with my stuff. (Interestingly, this is work I am doing in a life-changing program and the question he asks us to look at is “Are you willing to be seen? Are you willing to take up space?” Coincidence? Naw.)

My BIGNESS says that maybe my openly processing what’s going on with me helps someone else. I know I’ve been helped when others share their emotions, even if I don’t always understand it.

It’s a process. One step.

It’s a process. One step.

This lovely quote by Mira Jacob (thank you!) helped me not worry about grieving and posting so much. As Fabeku would say, this is what’s called “Being willing to take up space”. I chose to take up space unapologetically (mostly).

Mira Jacob
April 23 at 10:18am · New York, NY ·
I’ve been noticing a funny phenomenon of some of my friends being embarrassed by the intensity of their grief over Prince. I didn’t know him, they say. It’s not like we were friends. I’m sorry I’m so emotional. They act like they’ve co-opted their sadness, like they’re squatting in a feeling that isn’t theirs to inhabit. Which, I just want to say, as lovingly as possible, is total bullshit. Of course you knew him. Of course you are shattered. That’s the whole deal with art—it doesn’t give a shit about the boundaries of flesh. You never held Prince? So what. The way he spoke to you, the way he shaped you and transformed you into someone you couldn’t have imagined is just as real and vital as any relationship you will ever have. I mean listen, if we as a people need to apologize for something, I will gladly nominate global warming, or the Kardashians, or fat-free cream cheese. But loving and grieving a man we never touched? That is us at our very, very best. No apology necessary.

Okay, then. None given.

Lessons, Lisa?

There are several, really:

1. When you ask the Universe to support your intention, don’t be surprised if it does that in a way that isn’t pleasant. Your most favorite performer doesn’t have to suddenly depart this earth, as was my case, but if you’re ready for that shift, it WILL come.

2. When you’re ready to really BE your BIGNESS, it feels scary as all hell. Then, POOF! You’re there. You know what it feels like and you can access it whenever you want. Just tell smallness to hush and go back to shining. You can’t tell me at some point (maybe more than one) Prince had those voices and fears rise up. He chose to show up BIG every time.

3. This is work I’ve been doing with my clients all along but didn’t have it quite as focused as I do now. Sometimes, it takes a brick to the head to see what’s been there all along. Prince’s sudden death was my brick.