Week Fifty-Two - Adieu to the WooHoo....

Well, I did it!  I completed a blog entry every week, the entire year of 2012.  Is it wrong for me to say I won’t be sad at all to see this year come to a close? Expectations can be my Achilles heel, and I may have privately embraced a few last year. I expected to be whooping it up with new adventures and exciting challenges; larger than life, extravagant woohoo’s, and memorable events.  Why not? I have worked hard on maintaining a positive energy for quite some time now. 

I am tossing around the word FEARLESS as my word of the year for 2013  The Universe will reveal it to me between now and the New Year.  This year, I’m choosing not to expect so much.  But surely there is nothing wrong with a little envisioning. I would love for  2013 to be the year of external change;  enjoyable, engaging, and most of all fresh and new.  New friends, new jobs, new projects, new experiences, new home.... New. 

I’ve changed this past year, no doubt about it. I wasn’t convinced of that for awhile, especially as the year has wound down.  Things didn’t go my way often this year, or so I thought.   I should know by now, even when life doesn’t seem to go my way, it’s not always about “our way” rather, the “best way” for us to grow.  Perhaps the boredom, the silence, the inactivity, the lackluster... it’s all  been so bare bones, maybe it was an opportunity to witness firsthand how much I have changed because there were no distractions.   I witnessed myself approaching what I thought were useful beliefs and circumstances in a new way.  Much differently than I have in the past, with eyes that actually were more loving, especially to me.  After all, if I don’t honor me, how can I expect you to?  Many days I felt like my brain was turning to mush with an unusual lack of meaningful or new social interaction; ankle shackled to financial fears and other insecurities as I remained unchallenged, and stagnating professionally.  Yet, too scared to take a leap of faith and make a change. Most of all..... living in a place I now recognize, I outgrew before I even moved here.  Stuck, stuck, stuck, in the mire of indecision and faithlessness.

I’ve had a million excuses.  It’s just me.  I am the sole support.  I can’t walk away from responsibility.  No one is able to help me.  I have little support. Blah... de Blah...Blah... Blah!    What was my word of the year for 2012 again?  FREEDOM.  It’s hard to be free when you’re all caught up in what other’s will think, and your own what if’s and martyrdom.  

Then I began to notice, those sweet spots where change had taken place, probably not  notable to my outer circles.  But, to those who love me unconditionally, the few who have hung with me for a long time, or, those who have taken the time to get to know me this year, they can see it’s been a year of change.  That change has been within.   My soul is wiser; my heart is bigger.  I’m kinder. I have a degree of serenity (most of the time) that isn’t dependant on a set of criteria like it has been in the past:   a great job,  travel, big adventures, or other people’s whims, moods, and opinions.  I am grateful now for the simpler gifts, the ones life presents to me everyday.  Wisdoms from my little girls, breakfast with besties, coffee clatches with my beloved daughter, the sun on my head after a series of dreary days, and a bright red and pink sunset, finger painted across the sky, on my way home from work.   I’m more in tune with the connectivity to all of life and finding when I recognize it,  I am of greater service and closer to living my purpose.  I live authentically now.... out loud, no secrets, no shame, no hiding, no faking it until I make it.  Not anymore.  Hand made by God - a one of kind designer piece, rather than some cheap knock-off of what I think the world wants. 

So, maybe that’s what it takes.  A year of bone crushing sameness, drudgery, and simplicity to force those of us who thrive on change and challenge to seek it elsewhere - within.    Not the woohoo’s I thought I would find in the beginning.  Prince Charmings, Double-digit incomes, High Adventure. Acclaim.  Yet, I have no regrets in discovering the best woohoos were inside me.  I think those are the ones that lead us to the bliss we’re ultimately seeking.  The rest is just candy... sugary sweet in that moment.  Gives you a great high,  for a time. Eventually the buzz wears off and you crash into facing yourself and life in the mirror.  The difference now, I like what I see in the mirror and in my heart.   I look forward, (without expectation of course) to those sweet treats doled out in good times by the material world.  Just think how delicious they will taste, knowing they are just the cherry on top of the FEARLESS life I am now fully equipped to live.  

Woo-Hoo to my year of reflection, struggle for authenticity, and finding out joy does not always equate to adventure, change, and a grandiose life.  It can be arrived at when we begin to unveil layers of who we are, what makes us tick, and why we are here.  What greater adventure could I possibly experience.  In doing this, we open up to living in a state of awe and woohoo without definitions or restrictions. 

As I was writing this, I realized, my word of the year for 2012 has shown up in so many areas of my life - FREEDOM.  I am who I am. I am not defined by things of the world. I am not dependant on the whims of others.  I am always loved no matter what. That is living FREE!  Do you have any idea how it feels? Maybe 2013 should be the year to live FEARLESSLY.  After, all when you are already FREE,  why not?  

Week Fifty-One - Words won’t do...

The grief is unbearable and collective.    It’s etched on the face of our nation.   Inescapable.  You don’t even have to pick up the newspaper, turn on the television, or hook up with social media.  It’s present in the shell-shocked pain etched faces; at the gym, Christmas parties, at the grocery store, in our workplaces. Conversation is strained because “words won’t do”. I remember a special coworker wrote that in a sympathy card years ago,  when my husband passed away.  He said, “My heart is with you, because words won’t do.” That’s stuck with me all these years. 

 This vibration of the worst kind of suffering and loss is so profound, it seems to permeate any moments of creativity, my sleep, and unexpected tears well, easily.  It’s especially overwhelming as I touch my lips to the foreheads of my three precious grand-daughters and the thought passes, there are grandmothers who will never get to do that again in this earthly life.  I see it again, as my daughter hears three voices of angels, singing along in Christmas song, and turns her face to hide the sorrow.  I see it when my son-in-law holds his girls for an extra few minutes when he walks through the door, and they greet him with squeals of “Daddy!”  I feel myself slipping into  it when I  look at the Christmas tree and my eyes get lost in imagining the incomprehensible.  Along with it there is immense gratitude for those kisses, voices, and squeals, but some survivor’s guilt kicks in at the loss of these other young children, beautiful blessings, that have been so unfairly torn from this world and their loved ones. 

Any massacre is horror... An unimaginable nightmare come true, but when it involves the purest, most vulnerable members of a society,  it is especially evil.  It robs the place in your soul reserved for hope, joy, tenderness, and innocence.   This is the kind of burglary that often  things are never found again.  Lost forever.  Trust, security, faith, innocence.  How do these mothers and fathers, brothers, sisters, grandparents, relatives, and friends ever rediscover joy again when they are suffering so?  Where will healing come from?  Gun control, mental health reform, living in a bubble with armed security everywhere?  When will compassion, empathy, unselfishness, ethics and love, be put into the curriculum of studies?  These skills can be taught and mirrored too.   And, the media needs to be in the front row when these lessons begin. 

Perhaps through this darkness of the soul... maybe this  is where everyone will find their way back to a place of light again, inside the heart of other’s immense pain. Joining hands and hearts, and leading one another out, into the Light of Love and understanding. And change.  Badly needed change. We are connected.... When will we get that?  Nowhere was it more apparent than in the memorial service for the victims of Sandy Hook. One God, Allah, Higher Power, Source, Holy Name, Om, Supreme Being..... drawing us together to grieve and comfort one another in the loss of His greatest glory. 

In the words of Henry Beecher Stowe, “Children are the hands by which we take hold of heaven.”  It is through the personalities and abundant gifts these beautiful little angels brought into this world, 6-7 years ago, we will find our God’s healing and be able to feel heaven again.   

My heart is with you. 

Week Fifty- WooHoo to Opening up the Guest House....

I’ve been trying to recapture my zen.  Some bad things have happened recently, and I was shocked to see how quickly it all slipped away.  I labeled myself the wicked witch of the East because I sure melted into a puddle of yuck these past few weeks.  Ugliness didn’t simply inch its way back into my life again.  It came roaring in, leaving me gasping for breath with an intensity I hadn’t known before.  Rage...... is a new emotion for me.  Apparently, I’ve managed to bury that one deep under layers of other emotion or maybe even an addiction or two.  The end result was just an overall feeling of unwellness, mentally for sure, but surprisingly physical as well.   Anger, revenge, judgement, and then old tapes that said it was wrong to feel this.  The feelings of guilt that arrived were just an attempt to douse the out of control flames burning brightly.  Those were getting fueled by every abandonment, rejection, loss, and tragedy suffered in my lifetime.  Where did it all come from?  Good grief. 

Then, I  labeled myself as defective, once again.  A phony claiming to have a few good qualities that somehow had left the building, or were they ever even really there?    Character defects glaring back at me and taunting me with, “See... we ARE still here. You haven’t changed one bit.”  The voices in my head were cruel and out of control.  It didn’t help that I was virtually on my own in my anger.  People get frightened when you express that much emotion, and tend to back off in fear, get snitty back, or worse yet, try to minimize what you are feeling for you. Compassion was sorely absent, but then again, I wasn’t acting like the person they had come to know.   Perhaps they were afraid it was contagious too, and some of the venom would land on them.  I really felt abandoned (again) and zapped... powerless.  On some level though, I not only knew the anger was justified, and although it didn’t FEEL healthy in my body, I knew it was actually spiritually healthy for me to experience the emotion of it, fully.  It owned me for awhile.  I wouldn’t have ever welcomed it, but into about the second or third week of this process, I did recognize, it was teaching me something.  It was showing me, as frightening and negative as it was, I needed to own it. Once we own something, its power diminishes and we begin to get ours back.  My power came back just enough to be able to turn it over although my trust level with my Source was at an all time low.   I knew that I had to do that. The difference in turning it over this time was I did it for me.  No generosity of spirit, no attempts for folks to like me again because I was happy and fun... it was a case of pure selfishness.   I just didn’t like feeling and living in it.  Most of all I intuitively knew, in turning it over to my Source, that would be the only way I would be able to ever see rightly because  my Source is only capable of love. In love, my Higher Power guided me to this:   

The Guest House

by Rumi

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

Woo-Hoo to feelings! My guest house is fully open to them now.  Because I know there is a permanent Tenant here Who is better in tune than I am with what I need for my spirit to learn and grow.   And, wow... how timely for this to happen at the end of my year of woohoo. I thought so much of my year would be comprised of woo-hoo’s that reflected fun times, adventures, new endeavors.... It’s looking more like woo-hoo to the unexpected visitors, who have lit my path and changed me  this year.  I think I will dedicate the last two weeks to acknowledging them and expressing my gratitude for the role they have all played in my life.  WooHoo! 

Week Forty-Nine- Powerlessness and no woo-hoo in sight....

I ended last week’s entry with an Elizabeth Kubler Ross quote,“Learn to get in touch with the silence within yourself, and know that everything in life has purpose.  There are no mistakes, no coincidences, all events are blessings given to us to learn from.”  This profession of belief came back and bit me in the patootie as well as challenged me in a bigger way than I have been challenged in many years.   Something said, “Hey hot shot, let’s see if you can walk like you talk.”  I know I haven’t.  I’ve failed the test horribly.  The “F” word has seared my lips so often this week, I’m thinking I am ready to make a  rap video that could cause U-tube to scream EXPLICIT in flashing red letters all over the screen. My heart feels like it’s ready to explode most of the time: I bounce between sleepless nights and 14 hours of sleep.   My body is exhausted from the tremendous amount of energy it takes to feel so much rage and hatred.... and I don’t like it.  Generally making a choice to choose to see something positive, or  the lesson, works for me.  Not this time.  I can't justify it, turn the other cheek, minimize the damage, or fake it until I make it.  It's not working.  I've been brought to my knees again and  I can’t recall feeling this angry about anything in a very, very, long time.  Perhaps decades.  I know the meaning of non-forgiveness is like taking poison and waiting for the other person to die, because I am becoming sicker by the day as the venom permeates every cell in my body. Can I describe the rage I feel?  Every fiber of my being is on high alert, just coiled to attack.  An elephant is sitting on my chest, and I have to make a concerted effort to breath.  Focusing is non-existent as the thoughts bouncing around in my head aren’t even rational and the reel to reel keeps repeating.  I imagine the act and violation, and it just fuels the fires. 

My little family was a victim of a robbery the previous weekend.  They discovered it when they came home from what was a happy, joyful, overnighter with friends.  A window in an office pried open; every drawer, closet, cupboard rifled and lifted as the invaders picked and choose, anything they perceived to be of any value.  Children’s piggy banks, treasured heirloom jewelry, childrens’ religious pieces, technology games, tools, fundraiser money.   Those are just a few of things that have been taken;  like someone felt entitled to go on a drunken shopping spree in a private residence.    I cannot wrap my mind around the profile of  individuals that could do such a thing.  Were they born without a morality button?  They certainly can’t care about the devastation this had on the children.  Or,  the years of work and sacrifice of the victims as well as the generations before them, that went into the accumulation of those material possessions.  Nope, I can’t even come close to understanding the mind of these monsters that  trash their way into others lives wrecking havoc...destructive forces of nature, except this has nothing to do with nature.  When I think of nature, I think of my God and how His presence is intertwined in all that I see in the natural world.  I just can't believe He was present in this horrific act. 

Every day is the day I think we will all move on.  And, then the clouds move in and another item comes up MIA, lighting the fire again.   I think this can’t have had a permanent impact on the little ones, yet, I know I am only kidding myself.  They have witnessed firsthand the dirty little underbelly of the bit of a world and its evil, selfishness, and entitlement.  They no longer feel safe in their own home, and most of all, they all, my whole family, feel horribly violated.  I know enough about grief processes and I am sitting back in my own little hell and torment, witnessing  each of them each traveling through very personal and familiar phases.   The oldest grandchild  is stuck in depression and has taken to sleeping every single moment she isn’t in school.  The middle one has started to chew on and suck her thumb, something she hasn’t done since she was a baby,  and the youngest will not even go into an adjacent room by herself. I know they are young, and, they will move through the process in their time and acceptance will set in leaving some breathing space for their childlike joy again. It's much more painful to watch than to experience it yourself.   

But, how can I move on?  This hurts so much worse than if it had happened to me... And, it actually has.  Not once, but twice in my lifetime.  Maybe that’s what makes it so wrenching.  I know the fear, the violation, and the disappointment in discovering, it isn’t always about what kind of person you are.  Bad shit happens to awesome, giving,  loving people.  And, bad people sometimes seem to win and come out on top.   I don’t know if the things it taught me, are the things I ever wanted my little family to learn, at least not so up close and personal.  I would have rather they learned it on the sidelines,  from the periphery of  my experiences.   

Yet, I’ve lived through enough crisis and wallowed long enough in it this entire week or more,  to intuitively know, there is only one thing I can do, for myself, just myself...  to begin to move forward.  I feel like the power of choice to control my thoughts and my attitude has been stripped away, stolen too.   There is but one choice left.  Today is the day I am making that choice,  because I will not allow such evil and poison, to have another day inside my heart and head and control my life.  

Today, is the day I am begging, “Higher Power, I am powerless over this rage and my attitude and thoughts about these individuals.  I hand them and my life over to You to do with what You will.  I trust Your plan and know with You all things are possible.  Even  forgiveness.  Help me back to a place of serenity, love,  and to discover the WooHoo in life again."   

(This post was written cathartically... if it offends someone, I'm sorry.   I need my joy back...and I am powerless to recapture it on my own)

Week Forty-Seven and Forty- Eight - Meditation, Gratitude and Thanksgiving

I’ve moved beyond the three C’s...finally.  Crying, Conflicted and Confused seemed to be the state of my internal affairs the last few weeks.  Reminding myself, this too shall pass, and sticking with my 21 day meditation commitment with Deepak, some light has shone through the cracks of the wall I had built up again.  Maybe the meditation shook loose some more of the dust of old fears, and regret. I know surely there is a priceless, heirloom lying in wait, and all I need to do is recognize her and wrap my arms around her in gratitude and love. And, teach her to continue to protect herself when others dust starts to fly her way.  

I began meditation practice, rather sporadically, about 6-7 years ago.  I attended a psychic fair with a group of ladies, looking for nothing really other than to have a great time with my friends.  A male psychic picked me out of the crowd and said, “ This is for the blonde lady in the back of the room.”  As I looked around in search of “her”, he said, “No, I mean you.  I am talking to you.”  He then proceeded on and told me, “You are really good at praying and talking to God.  Now, you need to practice listening to God.”  I was confused.  How do I listen to God?  Meditation has been the answer; better than therapy and no stress over a bill in the mailbox. 

In a very recent meditation session I experienced a few of those sweet slices of pure mindless bliss and a voice within that whispered, “I love you so much.  Trust me.”   How can I not?  This voice was different than the annoying one that taunts my brain with so much nonsense.  Some days in the midst of the meditation, the mind behaves like a spoiled little two year old, stomping its feet and screaming, “Pay attention to me!”  It’s like a deceptive old wizard, standing behind the curtain, madly working the controls, trying to get me to listen to the voice of the great and powerful ego.  My goal is to reveal  what’s really waiting for me behind that curtain;  truth... unconditional support and love and Freedom.   Those occasional glimpses of what’s possible, makes me want to keep perfecting flipping the “off” switch and going within.  

The structured meditation challenge provided by The Chopra Center, and my commitment to it, has been a highlight and some days, I’ve practiced twice in one day. 

I was reminded once again, in the midst of the practice the other day, how powerless I truly am.  I have no idea why I think I exercise more control over my life than the Source who created the heavens and earth.  What an ego!   When you really ponder it for a while, one would think we would be so grateful that our only job is to be grateful and know in doing that, we receive a world of abundance.  Why can’t most of us just let go of outcomes and dance in the day? 

 My first sucker punch about control came when I discovered I had no power over my addiction to alcohol.  I had to let go and turn to something outside of my head, where will power and arrogance resided. Those weren’t working.  Shortly into sobriety I learned how little control I had over most things, specifically outcomes, when my mom was diagnosed with cancer.  There is nothing to fully engage that feeling of utter despair and complete powerlessness than disease.  I’ve gotten to repeat the lesson of powerlessness over and over in the loss of jobs, friends, heartbreaks, and finances from time to time.  I know this truth well.  We are ultimately powerless over outcomes in our lives.  The best we can do, is get on about the business of living, doing the legwork, being grateful for whatever comes our way, even if we have to drill it down. I do believe we have a choice in how we view the events in our lives.  Some of my gratitude lists from the past, captured in journals, look a little like this:

• I am grateful today that my broken heart has taught me to love myself just as much as I love someone else.
• I’m grateful to have known the soulmate love of my husband, powerful and nurturing even if I only had him for ten years.  Some never have it in a lifetime. 
• I’m grateful to have shared a sober year with my mom before she passed away.
• I’m grateful to have been able to spend two months in Europe before I lost my job.
• I’m grateful for some of the hardships I’ve undergone.  It’s made me a kind, understanding person capable of empathy,  in knowing how it feels to experience a loss, fight an addiction, be financially broke, get your heart broken, be scared to death, and fail. 
• I’m grateful for this unproven faith, and uncommon courage that tells me, quitting is not an option.  Resting awhile is okay.  Giving up isn’t.   
• I’m grateful today that I do believe beyond a reasonable doubt, rejection IS God’s protection. 

Glancing back through my journals, the traditional thankfulness for my health, family, home, job, has been there for the most part through the years.  The more profound entries are the ones, when the light bulb goes on and I recognize, there is always a seed of gratitude in every experience.  Not always (rarely) identifiable immediately, but ultimately, I can see a  grand pattern, and it’s one that winds into a belief,  our lives and events aren’t random.  

That’s what mindfulness and meditation is teaching me.  All I need to worry about, is the present.  Work hard, plan with no strings attached, embrace my heart’s desires, be real, live my life, follow the version of the golden rule which asks me to treat others, as THEY  would like to be treated.... listen.  The details are none of my business and simply a spiritual drain and a distraction. 

I’m grateful, for this meditation experience and my crazy, colorful, dysfunctional life.  Through both,  I’ve learned, I do have this tremendous Source of abundance, strength, hope, and love right here, anytime I choose to tap in.   The best way for me to access that power, is to go within and listen beyond the thoughts in my head.  

I leave you with a quote from one of my favorite icons, Elizabeth Kubler Ross,

“Learn to get in touch with the silence within yourself, and know that everything in life has purpose.  There are no mistakes, no coincidences, all events are blessings given to us to learn from.” 

Woo Hoo to meditation practice and the gratitude it breeds.  Happy Thanksgiving every day of your life. 

Week Forty-Six -- - - - - Testing... testing...

This week’s entry is greatly delayed. I knew when I started this commitment and journey to 52 weeks of woohoo some weeks I may have to dig a little deeper to unearth the joy.  It was one of those weeks.  First, the Presidential election took place, and as hopeful as I was, personally, the change I wanted to see didn’t happen.  I did find some gratitude in my freedom to live in a country where I do get to cast a vote.  But, I got caught up in the end result and decided that I must be the ONLY one that has gone through a rough ride under this President’s leadership.  Poor me.  I sure didn’t envision this chapter of my life looking like this, part time jobs being the new normal, without benefits, a declining unsaleable house worth 35% less than it was even six years ago, and growing bone tired of struggling and living it all, on my own. I found myself scared about the future (not where I should be living, for sure)  and wanting our old enthusiastic country back, the one I read about,  post WWII... A nation that values hard work and success, and breeds entrepreneurship and ingenuity.  Rather than this new complacency that slowly allows government to creep in and take care of everything for everyone, as they quietly slip the knife in the brain to perform a lobotomy, cutting away desire, opportunity and creativity which so often seems to be scorned and penalized.  Why don’t people admire success and look at it as an opportunity for learning and mentorship?  Do people really want to be equal in what seems to me to be all the wrong ways, robotically marching in unison to the beat, like a  Pink Floyd music video? Status Quo.  I knew the picture I was painting in my head, was bit over the top.  I also know I can be a drama queen in my thinking (and writing) mostly for effect, but, that was my opinion, and it’s one thing, so far, the government hasn’t yet stolen from me.  So many choices are slowly being stripped away, for my own good they say;  no drinking a pop over 16 ounces in New York, or driving without a seat belt, and soon I won’t have much choice over my health care provider (or lack of one).   Rules, warning and regulations reign supreme over about every area of our lives,  but today at least, I’m still allowed to think out loud and express my opinion.    As if one man (a President)  had the power to change things anyway.  Yet, my own life experiences have proven time and again, if nothing changes, nothing changes.  All this mental chaos, I knew on some level was counter-productive thinking;  self-centered and negative, totally foreign to how I want to live my life today. 

But, it continued. 

Later in the week, someone who made a tremendous impact on my life in the past six years, passed away.  She’d been sick for a year.  We met in a truly serendipitous encounter and there was an instant connection and attachment.  I intuitively knew she was put in my life for many reasons, opening the door to some childhood healing, and my mind to new spiritual thought processes that continue to blossom and serve me better than the God of my understanding in the past.   We often put people on pedestals, especially those that possess something we admire, desire or see lacking in ourselves.  We forget they too are human and when they fall off the pedestal, sometimes shattering, it’s hard to reconcile that they are still just human beings traveling their own path of hurt, healing, and learning their lessons too.  This is what happened in this relationship. It’d disintegrated a few years ago, rightfully so for a variety of reasons, the most important being, it wasn’t conducive to my good self-esteem and the positive energy I wanted to draw into my life.  I was torn and in a lot of mental anguish how to reconcile my feelings of gratitude to her for the gifts she brought into my life, with these newly learned lessons about boundaries and self-care, and walking away from unkindness, and unhealthy people and situations.  It consumed me and left me in tears for a good part of the week.  I was able to send her a letter before she passed and let her know of the gifts she brought into my life.  I was able to pray for her family.  I was unable to be hypocritical and attend her memorial service. I tried.  My intentions were good, but when the day came, something inside stopped me cold. I’ve learned in the past few years to pay attention to that something inside.  The old guilt of perceived public opinion at my failure to attend ate at me for a few days, but later dissipated when I honestly realized, what I was doing was really the best and most authentic thing to do... for me.  

Then I started a 21 day meditation challenge headed up by Deepak Chopra. Rather than feeling all relaxed, warm and fuzzy, I was agitated, irritable and annoyed the first few days.  What was the deal here?  This clearly was not what I expected.  Every personal affront, betrayal, and hurt was rising to the surface, triggered by the events of the past few weeks.  I felt myself shutting down again.  Closing off the doors to relationships, tuning out, and hibernating.  I did have the wherewithal to continue my mediation practice and immerse myself in positive spiritual readings.  I was watching a webcast interview with one of my favorite spiritual ladies, Iyanla VanZant.  She was citing a passage in Neale Donald Walsch’s book, Conversations with God.  “Whenever you declare to be something, everything unlike it will show up.  So the minute you declare yourself to be healed, or at peace, whatever it is, everything unlike it is gonna show up to test you. So, remember, If you don’t have a test, you won’t have a testimony.”   

My spiritual constipation shook loose.  My feelings were all perfectly fine.  It was normal to feel angry that I didn’t get my way, disappointed my guy didn’t win, conflicted about someone that gave me so much, yet, pushed so many childhood buttons related to self-esteem, rejection and abandonment.  It was okay to grieve the losses.  The meditation practice was just subconsciously pushing it to the surface, to see if I would handle it differently, this time.  

I did.  We can accept or reject the way we are treated by other people, we don’t need to feel guilty about stepping away and protecting ourselves from painful memories, as long as it is done kindly. I stepped away. I made peace with her while she was alive, acknowledging the gifts she brought into my life and I sent love and support to my friend’s family in their loss..... From a distance.  I got over my doom and gloom attitude with state of the nation too, and discovered by wallowing in it, and spewing negative energy was not part of the solution.  I can support, defend and do my part as a US citizen, to express my opinion to my congressman, vote, and personally contribute my time and efforts to implementing positive change. I can turn off/tune out the media with their subliminal sensationalism and terminology about "fiscal cliffs" and recessions.  

Best of all, I indulged in an entire pint of Graeter’s Ice Cream.... Coconut Chocolate Chip.  My world became a better place.  WooHoo.  

Week Forty-Five - Cloud Atlas: Karma, Learning, and Everlasting Love

“Our lives and our choices, each encounter, suggest a new potential direction. Yesterday my life was headed in one direction. Today, it is headed in another. Fear, belief, love;  phenomena that determines the course of our lives. These forces begin long before we are born and continue long after we perish.” 

 I sat in a movie theatre Saturday night enthralled, and challenged to follow the six different story lines of six generations of souls portrayed in this wonderful sci-fi’ish movie named Cloud Atlas.  It was three hours short, and right up my alley, but I knew most of my loved ones wouldn’t be up for it, so I treated myself.  What I call a movie with a message, they would call a movie that made their brains hurt!  I was glad I  went alone.  I got to sigh, and cry, cover my eyes and clutch my heart privately.  It was a wild ride for sure in simply keeping up with the story line which randomly raced from one era to another.  I got the message loud and clear, early on.  Every action we take affects not only our destiny, but others as well.  Every breath of our lives has a purpose, and life’s design is for us to grow and learn.  It is in our evolution we are not only the student, but the teacher, trading roles with all of those who touch into our lives.  

This week was perfect karmic timing for seeing this movie.  I’ve had the strongest sense of connection recently, with people, as well as places.  Sometimes I seem to possess this eerie ability to look out of eyes, that don’t seem to belong to me;  rather this soul inside who is clearly much more loving and kinder when engaging with others. Especially those people who push my buttons or hurt me.   Maybe this strange new vision is a  bonus; the result of keeping my nose to a spiritual grindstone over the last few years... who knows?  I’ve discovered, I like being somewhat detached,  being the observer;  impartial, and considerate of others journey.  

The movie made me think of long lost loves, relationships that ended poorly, and the handful of people who literally, have changed me in profound ways,  forever.    When I step back and look at them in the big picture rather than caught up in that single snapshot of “that time”, I can see the truth in another quote from the movie, “We are bound together from womb to tomb. Our lives are not our own.  We are bound to others past and present, and by each crime and every kindness, we birth our future.”  There is a karmic cause and effect energy at play here, in all our lives.  We get the opportunity, over and over again, to change the crime and turn it into kindness.   Nothing is left undone, and sometimes it just might take more than one lifetime of connection to complete destiny; our own and others.  Sometimes we are playing a role in other’s lives, and other times they are playing a part in ours.  From teacher to student, we trade off, learning what we need to learn for our spiritual evolution. 

This idea of reincarnation,  has really made me much more conscious of how I treat others, knowing, sooner or later, the ledger will get balanced.   If I have to set  boundaries, I do that more gently.  I speak my truth kinder without (to the best of my ability)  judging  another’s truth.  I’m fully aware of the energy I bring into others space and try my best to make it positive, or at least neutral.   I don’t hurt others feelings intentionally, and if I do, I amend it as quickly as I can. These are some of the tools I have learned in this lifetime that lend to a more peaceful and joyful me. 

I believe the Law of the Universe is one of attraction too.... Throughout history it’s been referred to as reaping what we sow, or an eye for an eye, and what goes around, comes around.  I really don’t want to spend my lifetimes, making the same mistakes over and over again, or repeating the same story.... same old soul, different bodies. 

Tom Hanks in Cloud Atlas

Some heavy-duty thought this election week, but its been a pleasant diversion from the political saturation of mean-spiritedness, opinions, and focus.  It puts it in perspective.  Everyone... even in this arena is simply acting out their karma.   

We are all just souls.......  “We cross the ages like clouds cross skies, and although a cloud’s shape nor hue, nor size doesn’t stay the same, it’s still a cloud and so is a soul.  Who can say where the cloud’s blowed from or who the soul will be tomorrow?”(Cloud Atlas) 

WooHoo to second, third, fourth or an eternity of chances!   Remind me if I get too caught up in being more human than soulful,  to just be kind, live in the moment, and trust in love as the only constant.  I’d like, when I come back next time around, to maybe walk a path of the great thinker, Socrates, or maybe Rumi, the poet.   Or, at the very least, the actress, Betty White!  She sure seems to be enjoying her ride!