acceptance

At The Precipice Of Compassion

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*Below is a post by Dr.Lissa Rankin,(I follow her on Facebook).
She is an MD who over the past few years has fully realized the body/mind connection. Last year she became “one of us” in the fact that she had a mystical spiritual experience, and is now in hot pursuit of the how’s and why’s by traveling the world talking and studying with shamans, healers, and the like. She is thoughtful, and wise and full of curiosity, and i really admire her.
When I read this I could think of about fifty gazillion of us that needed to hear it.
xoxJ

Take it away Lissa!

“Think of someone that’s making you crazy.
Now close your eyes and really feel how it feels to experience your emotions around this person. Let yourself really go there. Feel it in your body. Then open your eyes again and shake it off.

Now try something different if you dare.
Think of that same person, but don’t give yourself even an ounce of permission to think of yourself as a victim of this person’s actions or behavior. What if everything that’s happening in your dynamic with this person is perfectly orchestrated by the souls of both of you to help you grow? What if you have, at least on some soul level, invited this person into your life as a teacher? What are you learning from this person- patience, resilience, forgiveness, acceptance, the ability to love without conditions or attachment?

Now close your eyes again and think of this person, but this time release all your judgment and righteousness and call upon every lick of your empathy and compassion.
Can you see how maybe if you were in this person’s shoes, you might behave the same way? Can you try to understand why he or she is how he or she is? Can you feel the opening in your heart as you soften? Touch your heart with your hand. Can you feel it, the love inside, the Divinity within you that is not separate from the Divinity within this other person? Can you open your heart even more and find gratitude for this person, for all you’re learning from him or her, for the blessing it is to have this person in your life?

From that heart space of love, compassion, peace, acceptance, and gratitude, do you notice a difference in how you feel in your body? Do you notice any call for inspired action arising?”

Lissa Rankin

Are You A Vegan Who Eats Bacon? A High Strung Yogi? You’re A Walking Contradiction [With Audio]

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“Everything about me is a contradiction, and so is everything about everybody else.
We are made out of oppositions; we live between two poles. There’s a philistine and an aesthete in all of us, and a murderer and a saint.
You don’t reconcile the poles. You just recognize them.”
~Orson Wells

I used to LOVE loligaging around, reading and listening to music – simultaneously.

It was a habit I got into during school. I could only study with music playing or the TV on in the background. Nothing too heady, The Price Is Right or The Sonny And Cher Comedy Hour would drone on in the background, helping my brain process information.

Studies confirmed that there were others like me.
At least that was the lame excuse I would give my parents. I would sneeeeeer it out of my sideways, teenage mouth, like a hoodlum with the stub of a cigarette; when they’d yell for me to “turn that shit down!”
I lied about it so much, it became…true.

So what the hell has happened to me?
Now, as a writer, I need complete and utter silence when I sit down at the computer.
Is it age? Is my brain so busy just trying to conjugate a verb, that I can’t handle the distraction?
And forget about reading. I have six books open right now, all of them half read and only partially understood.

Suddenly, I’m a writer who doesn’t read, a singer that doesn’t listen to music.

I guess I can just add that to the list:

I’m also a woman that never lactated, or used her uterus for the good of the world in ANY WAY.

I’m a ex Jeweler who does’t wear or look at jewelry.

I’m a former Nationally Rated (fibbing here, but I could have been) professional shopper who hasn’t bought ANYTHING that wasn’t for someone else, since the inception of the boyfriend jean.

I’m a foodie who consumes steamed veggies and green drinks everyday and just to be cruel, I force my husband to do the same; utilizing his Catholic guilt.

I’m the biggest slug. The most ginormous lazy bones Jones, exercise loathing, couch potato, that God ever had the imagination to create; yet, I go to the gym – everyday.

WHAT THE HELL IS THE MATTER WITH ME?

I’ve become a walking contradiction. But what I’m starting to realize is that we ALL are…in our own ways.

I know certain individuals that are vegan, gluten free, alkaline water junkies…who smoke and eat bacon; hoity-toity fashionista’s who wear Target with their designer duds, Yogi’s who teach meditation that are high strung and judgmental, financial advisors that are millions of dollars in debt, Prius drivers who waste every resource imaginable, and drive like bats out of hell; and intellectual giants – who can’t tell time.

So I figure, seeing that it’s part of the human condition, living a contradicted life, that it would be unfair, almost cruel, to hold ourselves or anyone else for that matter, up to too much scrutiny.

I promise to look the other way, if you promise to do the same. (As far as I know, I’m still someone who can keep a promise.)
Deal?

You KNOW you’re contradicted, think about it and tell me how!

Loving you all…today.
xox

If you want to listen instead:
https://soundcloud.com/jbertolus/youre-a-walking-contradiction

The Eccentric, The Broken, The Outsider

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This is SOooooooo true! You know why my tribe?
Because they are the MOST interesting, sensitive and insightful souls.
Because they see the world differently than most.

Slightly tinted, and a bit skewed through the outsider’s lens.

Because they have an edge.
In their work and words and life.
It wraps it’s pointedness around their soft gooey hearts to keep them safe and sound, and if they let you inside, it feels like the Fourth of July, your first kiss and Christmas morning all rolled up into one.

Are you one of these wonderful, ragged, gypsy souls?

Then know I love You. Happy Saturday.
Xox

Accepting Help

imageSometimes the Universe delivers to you the hard scrabble lessons that you need in order to grow.

You can either resist or comply.
If you resist, it will revisit you, getting larger and more complicated in its delivery until you are forced to pay attention and acquiesce.

You know how I know that?
I am currently being supported by a man
Ugh………
AWKWARD (sung in high voice)

In a very deliberate attempt to be my own person and pay my own way, I got a job at sixteen, while I still lived at home.
Also, my dad made me. But that’s beside the point.
He insisted it be at Von’s supermarket, but rest assured, I would have started earning my own money at that age if it killed me.

I wanted to buy my own food (I HATED what was served at home).
I wanted to supplement my clothing budget. Sears and JC Penny’s-OUT, Bullocks Wilshire- IN.
I wanted to buy my own shampoo and make up, and get my hair cut where and when I wanted, and pay for it myself
AND
I wanted to stop taking the bus and buy a car.

Everyone in my family has a very strong work ethnic which has come in extremely handy for me, since I like money.
I like the financial freedom it gives me, and I’ll work my ass off to get it.
I’ve held two jobs at one time, with eight hours in between to sleep.
I like to spend it or give it away without explanations, excuses or apologies.

This independence has been a badge of honor I’ve worn all my life.
Hi, My name is Janet, I pay my own way.

So you can imagine how I feel at this stage of my life, mid fifties, with no job and no income stream.
I never saw this chapter coming.
It wasn’t how I’d imagined my life would be.
But hey, shit happens, right? Get over it.

I can sit around wanting things to be different, which is like trying to give a cat a bath, or I can embrace – Where. I. Am.

I’m being supported. Not by the state, or strangers, but by a man. Husband.
I hate even writing that.

My bad. My lesson to learn. Obviously.

But look how lucky I am. He is willing and able.
I would totally do it if the situation were reversed – no question about it.
I am the only one that has a problem with the arraignment.
Note to self: When shit hits the fan and you ask the Universe for help, it’s not polite to say “Oh, not THAT!”

I’m reminded of the parable about the man and the flood. 
There is a terrible flood and a man is trapped on his rooftop as he fervently prays to God to be saved.
After awhile, a boat comes by, but the man won’t get in. He’s waiting for God to save him.
Next a helicopter hovers overhead and throws down a rope. The man won’t take it. He yells up “I’m waiting to be saved by God.”
A second boat appears and still the man declines. “I’ve prayed to God and He’s going to save me”.
Soon, the man drowns and goes to Heaven. As you can imagine, he’s pissed.
When he finally sees God he exclaims, “I was praying so hard for you to save me, why did you let me down?”
To which God responds, “I sent you two boats and a helicopter, what more did you want?”

Just because what is supporting me right now feels foreign to me, doesn’t mean it’s not the answer to my prayers. As a matter of fact that’s how I KNOW it’s sent from God.

It just irked me to have to be supported.
Until I read the definition.
Supporting someone is noble and at times, necessary.
I’ve done it many times without giving it a second thought.
Being the receiver is much more difficult, but I’m starting to think that it can be just as noble a task – when your head’s in the right place. (Work in progress)

SUPPORT
sup·port
səˈpôrt/
verb
1.
bear all or part of the weight of; hold up.
produce enough food and water for; be capable of sustaining.
be capable of fulfilling (a role) adequately.
2.noun
give assistance to, especially financially; enable to function or act.
provide with a home and the necessities of life.
give approval, comfort, or encouragement to.

I’m definitely at a crossroads in my life and I’m not passive at all. I’m actively pursuing a couple of different ventures, but while I do, it’s nice to be able to eat and have a roof over my head, and believe me when I say- I have SO MUCH MORE

Yin and yang
Light and dark
Ebb and flow
This too shall pass.

What irks you right now that you KNOW is part of a bigger plan?

Love, love,
Xox

Why Different Isn’t Wrong

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The other day in line at my version of The Happiest Place on Earth, Target or “Tar-Jeh” as I like to refer to it; I overheard a couple of women in front of me mercilessly scrutinizing the cashier.

“My God, will you look at those fingernails, they’re so long! And that color!”

Her friend stopped unloading her cart onto the conveyor belt just long enough to lean forward to get a better look.

“Oh yeah”, she replied, “How does she do anything?

It seemed to me she was doing her job just fine.

“And that blue color- bleck, all the kids are wearing that and I just don’t get it. It’s hideous.”

I was hoping that our checker Tracy, couldn’t hear them, even though they were making no effort to lower their voices, speaking with the same loud, rude, audacity I’ve heard some American’s use in a foreign country when they assume the victim of their vitriol doesn’t speak English.

Once they had finished verbally annihilating Tracy, they went to town on the lady in the line next to us.

“Oh jeeeeeez, she’s too old to be wearing shorts. Not with legs like that! One of the women snorted. “She should get that vein stripping surgery that Miki had done, then maybe she could wear those things…but then only in the privacy of her own backyard for godsakes.”

“Looks like a freakin’ roadmap. Disgusting! My eyes can’t un-see that” her friend chimed in, throwing cat food, tampons and a Snickers bar on the belt.

Because I was behind them I was fair game—and terrified. I became a swivel head, looking around with the intention of changing lines.
God no, don’t do that, you’ll just give them a perfect shot of your ass in yoga pants as you walk away. I’ll be damned if I’m going to give them that nugget for their nastiness. Better I just stay put, duck down or become invisible…….
I was certain I was to become the next victim of the Target Fashion Police.

Do you know people like that? That judge anything that’s different from THEIR “normal” as…….wrong?

Hey, ladies, with your overdone Botox, orange skin, and fake designer handbags, (sorry, but you asked for it) it’s not wrong – it’s just different.

I once took a friend to a group meditation which I attended once a month. She was interested in starting a practice, and I’d known these people for over ten years. A previous friend I had taken, described this group as an old, cozy pair of slippers – warm and welcoming. I thought so too.

Meditation was great. My friend seemed to genuinely like the people, chatting and laughing afterward while sipping her alkaline water.

On the way home in the car, I was in for a rude awakening.

Ernest guy…what’s his story?” she asked.
I knew who she meant, one of the men IS very earnest in his social interactions.
“Oh I don’t know, I’ve known him forever. He can be kind of intense – but he’s sweet, really.”
“Well, he creeped me out. Then that Birkenstock, ferret-faced lady, ha! She’s something else.”

“Hey! These are my friends, sort of….anyway…they’re sweet and harmless and they seemed to really like you.”

I was trying to keep my cool, but I wanted to punch her in the throat. OMMMMMM back to a loving place.

“Yeah, well, they’re not my people, too granola, woo woo, Patchouli, for me. But I did like the water. And the meditation.”

Too bad sister, because I’m never taking you again, I thought silently to myself, not wanting to start a car-fight.

I had heard this same friend level a judgment on everyone around her in ten seconds flat, but they were usually strangers, not people I knew. (I can only imagine what kind of animal MY face resembled.) Seems anyone who didn’t fit in some little box she had envisioned as “correct” – was wrong.
They were ferret-faced, creepy, granola eating (so what) freaks.

“The guy on the corner waiting at the light? He looks like a pedophile.”
“Look at that girl’s eyeliner, who did her make-up? A raccoon?”

I know this seems like a duh, but I’m going there anyway. Obviously, SHE had some self-esteem issues or she wouldn’t be looking around with such a cruel eye and a sharp tongue.

After I ditched that judgy friend for good, I still couldn’t escape it, the judgment that is—I started to notice it everywhere.

Two guys at Starbucks sneering judgmentally at one of those overly complicated coffee orders the Barista is shouting out at the pickup counter. You know the one: grande, half-caf, sugar-free, one pump, vanilla latte with extra foam.

So what! Why is my order any of your business and why is it somehow wrong?

Variety makes the world go ’round. I personally relish it.
In my opinion, it makes life and people watching supremely entertaining.

Because it is so glaringly obvious to me now, I promise to try not to make you wrong.

Be your badass selves.
Fly your freak flags.
Wear your blue nail polish, pierce, tattoo, gray out your hair, Kelly Osbourne.
I LOVE IT. 

DIFFERENT inspires me! It gives me ideas, things I would have never have thought of.

As far as I ever contemplate pushing the envelope, someone has been there, done that, SO last Tuesday.

Start paying attention, see if you can catch yourself or someone around you judging different as wrong.
It’s okay if someone loves pickled herring or sleeps until noon or sings the wrong lyrics to every song (that’s actually endearing).

What do you think? Clue me in. Tell me about it in the comments!

Love you, my different little tribe,
Xox

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Listen up!

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“Except for the things we did wrong, we did everything right.”
~Will McAvoy The Newsroom

Bravo Aaron Sorkin. I LOVE that line.

I was re-watching last season’s episodes of The Newsroom. I have to do that to get reacquainted with the characters and story line for the upcoming season.
Oh fuck it. Who am I kidding, I have to do it because the dialogue is so rapid fire and smart, that if I blink or chew or fail to focus one hundred percent of my attention on it, I’m lost.

I’m IN LOVE with that particular piece of dialogue because that’s how I feel.

About all of us.

Except for the things we did wrong, we did everything right.

We really are doing okay. 
Better than okay, but I can already feel you bristling, so I’ll stick with okay.

I know. It doesn’t feel like it sometimes.

Hey, except for the things we did wrong, we did everything right.

We’re all doing better than we think.

Listen, we show up everyday.
Our feet hit the floor and with some manner of enthusiasm.
We enter the arena.
We have neither Tom Cruise levels of couch jumping excitement, nor are we living under a bridge with trolls.
We are gamely in the game.
Whatever that means. You know what I mean.

We have shelter and something to eat.
You know how I know that?
Because we have a high speed internet connection, and in the survival handbook, that is third after shelter and food.

We have remorse for those things we did wrong.
Now our job is not to wear it like an anchor around our necks.

We are literate and educated.
I’m taking a leap here, but I feel pretty confident about that.

We’ve all dialed back our inner Neanderthal, serial killer.
We have been able to sidestep prison up until now. If you are incarcerated, tell me about it in the comments below. 

We have our humor.
That I know because you keep checking in each day to see what kind of an ass I’ve made out of myself. Or, what crazy vomit, note burning, vagina checking I’ve been up to lately.
Some of your emails just have Bahahahaha in the subject line.

We are all doing the best we can.
We are judging and criticizing less. We are meditating and attending to our yoga practice and our oral hygiene. I really can’t ask more from you than that.
Maybe cut your toenails?

You know you’re not alone.
Not in your hopes and dreams and not in your various neurosis. If you’ve read this blog for any length of time you should feel extremely reassured.
And incredibly normal.

We’re living responsible lives.
The bills get paid, the kids aren’t dead, the pets aren’t dead, the fish isn’t……

You’re striving to improve yourselves.
This is a spiritual blog at its core, so you’re reading and implementing any and all advise you glean from these pages (Indulge me here).
And, I’m intuitive so I KNOW you are all loving and kind people walking through the world, striving to live your purpose.
Aren’t I good? It’s a talent.

In closing: Except for the things we did wrong, we did everything right.

You’re welcome,

Amen.

Love yoooooooou!
Xox

You can only write me a comment if you’re currently in prison…

Clues Of What’s To Come

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We both noticed it. My husband and I.

There was one lonely sheet of double ply Brawny paper towel on the butcher block in the center of the kitchen, when we got up this morning.
I thought it was left over from some boxer-shark puppy calamity that he’d cleaned up, and I’m sure he thought the same.

Neither was true.

It just laid there, like a blank slate, ready for a mess.

Five minutes later when he was bringing me my coffee, (cue the sappy music and the Husband of the Year Award) it sloshed up and over the side of the cup, leaving a little trail to the TV room, where I sit in the morning, posting this blog.
Now the handy dandy paper towel that was nearby, primed and ready, waiting for a spill, was finally put to use.

Often, the Universe leaves us clues of what’s to come.

The other day, I noticed a rogue Band Aid on the bathroom counter. 
Hmmmmm. How’d THAT get there?
It came in handy when my groovy shoes gave me blisters from hell later that afternoon.

I love the concept that the Universe, like a helicopter parent, is waiting there with a Kleenex before we even sneeze.

I, for one, welcome the help.

I can think of SO many of these. Can you?

You’ve probably never tried.

Do it! 
It’s fun. Close your eyes and think a minute about the little clues that you’ve received, out of the blue.
When has the Universe placed something right in your path that was exactly what you needed. You probably won’t have to think long, these things tend to make an impression.

Tell me, I’d love to hear your story!

Xox

Caution: Faith Under Construction

Caution: Faith Under Construction

I don’t know if any of you have done a remodel, or any kind of
major construction to your “nest”.

I’m asking because it sucks.

It is nerve racking at best, a relationship buster at worst.
When you witness the demolition, you just can’t IMAGINE
the finished product will materialize from that giant, dusty, dirty mess!
All you can see is what’s in front of you:
A freaking debris pile that looks NOTHING close to what you want!

My husband, being a designer/ builder often talks about that certain point
in the construction phase, where everyone loses their patience and the homeowner’s head explodes!

I experienced that phase first hand during our renovation.
My head did explode.
There should be a support group for that.

After the foundation is laid, things change every day.
It’s especially exciting when the framing happens because your dream starts to take form and you can physically SEE what has only lived as lines on a blueprint.

Then….days and days and days go by, and it seems as if the project has stalled.

Where for weeks you’ve woken up to the sound of nail guns,
now…crickets..

You’re convinced everyone has run to Rio with your money, leaving you living in a popsicle stick house.

What is taking place, is the rough electrical and plumbing, but it’s hidden inside the walls!
It is the nervous system of your home, and is critical to the finished product,
But DAMNIT !! It’s INVISIBLE!

I keep coming back to this memory, this time of reconstruction, to conjure my…FAITH.
I had to maintain my faith then, and I’m doing it now.
Just like back then, there is caution tape,
and a porta potty present, as my life is currently under construction.

Problem is…I can’t see any forward movement.
All the work is happening underneath and inside, and the progress seems
imperceptible from here.

It is critical to the integrity and structure of my dream, I know!
I keep picturing the Universe hard at work behind the scenes,
Kinda like Santa.
And my faith tells me things will eventually show their face in the physical,
just like the remodel did.

And, if I was a betting girl, I’d bet my head will not explode this time.

Stay tuned
XoxJanet

The Cello in the Dryer

The  Cello in the Dryer

I have a dryer with an annoying squeak.
It’s really more of a groan,
like a tiny cello playing soulfully to the socks in dryer limbo.

As the clothes tumble their way to dryness,
this medium pitched whine reminds me that I should call
a repair man…but I never will again.

It has become the “white noise” of my life.
I really hardly notice it anymore,…except when I do,
and then it drives me crazy!
But then I stop and remember.

My husband has tried to fix it,
so has a previous dryer repair guy,
who was there to repair something else.
I had to call his attention to it, as he was running the dryer to see if the other problem was fixed.
“Can you fix that squeak too”? I asked gingerly.
He was grumpy and rushed, and was pretending he couldn’t hear it.
“It’s probably a loose belt” he grumbled, like he was chewing food with his mouth full.

I walked out of the room to leave him to his expert belt-tightening,
Later, I walked down the hall to go check his handiwork and,
Low and behold!! No dryer squeak!
Just silence, which was like
the sound of angels singing…and clothes softly tumbling dry.

All was right with the world.

But I missed the groan,
I missed hearing the tiny cello symphony late at night,
The squeak was familiar,
The whine was comforting,
It was a noisy dryer but it was MY noisy dryer!
I was used to it,
It gave me a warm feeling,
just like the towels inside the dryer.

It soon came back, and I will never silence it again.

We all have some petty annoyances in our lives that are on our
perpetual “to do” list to get rid of, or fix.
There are even some people on that list!
But I’m telling you, they are there to be part of the soundtrack
of our lives.
Like nails on a blackboard some times,
and imperceptible at others.

So ask yourself, would you miss it if it left?
What makes you feel better?
More at home?
Comfy and cozy and familiar?
Silent perfection?
Angels singing?
Or…YOUR own squeaky dryer?

Hi, I’m Janet

Mentor. Pirate. Dropper of F-bombs.

This is where I write about my version of life. My stories. Told in my own words.

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