beginnings

Happy Sunday you guys, this is my New Moon wish for you!

There was a New Moon in Capricorn at 8:30 PM EST, January 9 (so, last night). It signifies new beginnings, as do all new moons.

According to astrologer Leo Knighton Tallarico:

“This one is in Capricorn and as such it prompts us to get back out into the world, to organize and plan, to be more disciplined, to do what one needs to do, to make firmer boundaries, to be in one’s integrity, to demand more from yourself and others, to concentrate more on work and accomplishment, to have greater self-respect, to be more logical and realistic.”

Amen to that! I could use some more organized discipline and I’m always working on setting those boundaries!

If you want to read the rest of his take on the new moon (and he also does some astrological predictions for some of the Presidential candidates which I found interesting, here’s his website:

https://spiritualtherapy.wordpress.com

Carry on,

xox

So yeah, I’ve been writing with my new mentor—and she’s dead.
Minor complication really, especially given her big personality.

Lately, all she wants to talk about is how she died and what it’s like being dead.
I know, blah, blah, blah, who cares.
Oh wait, I do!
I’ve always been curious about the after-life and now lucky me, I have my own personal color commentator giving me her blow-by-blow descriptions of death and dying.

The other morning was typical. Another 5 a.m. wake-up call.
After hearing her “writing” in my head, (that’s how this works, she sends me these thoughts, or sentences that repeat and repeat and the trouble is they’re so great they wake me up), I stopped dreaming about the beached dolphin who was stealing the Nutty Buddy right out of my hand — and I got my computer to write her shit down.

“Woman, can’t you see I’m sleeping? It’s five in the morning!”

“Not here.”

Did I mention she’s a world-class smart-ass?

Her opening line with me a few months back was: death is highly underrated. How’s THAT for an opener?
It got my attention.

Saturday morning was no different. Her early morning wake-up line was this gem:

Death is slippery… Death is slippery…
It would never occur to me to pair those two words, death and slippery together.
That is SO her — I don’t have her facility with language. I’ve also never died, not even little bit.
So…that’s what woke me up enough to grab my computer.

She went on with her thought once she knew that I was awake and ready for dictation.

Did I mention she’s a bit of a taskmaster?

Death is subtle. It is slippery and seamless.

Huh.
I sat up (I had been typing laying down, hoping this was going to be a short session and I could go back to sleep) wiped the sleep from my eyes, the drool off my chin, and started to give that phrase some thought. Then I did what has become my habit with her. I looked up the definition of EVERY word because there are so many layers to what she’s trying to convey and her words are chosen VERY carefully.

It has been my experience that there is always a treasure of wisdom hidden inside.
This time did not disappoint.

SUBTLE: Delicately complex and understated. Really? Look at those words describing death — delicately complex, understated… A new concept, but I like it.

SLIPPERY: Elusive in meaning because changing according to one’s point of view. That’s the third definition listed, but that’s the one she chose. That makes sense to me. Your death experience would morph to your point of view or expectations.

SEAMLESS: Smooth and continuous, with no apparent gaps or spaces between one part and the next. Great word. Okay, okay, I’m starting to sense a theme here.

Eh hem, (said with the utmost respect) Madam, would you care to elaborate? (Like I could stop her).

Death is subtle. It is slippery and seamless.
One minute you’re here, the next you are not. It is not ONE BIT SCARY.
Similar enough to (life) to comfort; different enough to question.
“I’m dead, right?”
It has speed. Momentum.
Slippery and seamless—Think white socks on a waxed floor.
(she shows me Tom Cruise in Risky Business when he slides into the doorway in his sunglasses, white socks and tighty whities.)

That’s quite an entrance, don’t you agree? I suppose it’s also an exit. According to her—it’s both at the same time.

Can’t you just hear that music? That piano line? Da,da,da,da,da,da,dum.
You slide into the next life with shades and attitude, helped along by speed and momentum.

“I’m dead, right?”

At that point…does it matter?

Is it really that easy?

Apparently so.

Carry on,
xox

I’m certain my face looked identical to this! LOl!

I was startled Wednesday; on my walk; by a bird…who flew at full speed into my left shoulder and then kept going. Apparently it had a full morning and no manners.

I walk with earphones, traversing the neighborhood in a kind of meditation stupor so you can imagine my surprise when something hit me from behind.

I would have LUUUUVED to have seen my face. I’m certain it was an attractive mixture of what-the-hell surprise and indignation.
I think I may have even yelped…and done a skip-kick.

Some would have called it a scream-cry, although it wasn’t; it was the WTF yulp of a middle-aged woman in yoga pants, with arms weights and boob sweat, chugging along at eight thirty in the morning, minding her own business and smiling at dogs.

In other words, just another fitness failure trying to get some cardio in by walking ten thousand steps in order to stave off writer’s ass.

I gotta tell ya it stopped me in my tracks, (I kept my feet moving while I looked around, in order to keep my heart rate up, YO!) but there were no witnesses to my hit and fly, so I just shrugged and kept on movin’.

Since you know me by now and the fact that I can’t take ANYTHING at face value, I made a metal note to look up “personal bird strike” when I got home. But since my brain is currently made of swiss cheese…I promptly forgot.

Upon returning home I got sidetracked into bringing in the trash bins, sweeping the patio, looking at old recipes, and trimming dead fronds off of the ferns that frame the fountain by the back deck off of our bathroom. That fountain then reminded me in a not-so-friendly-way that it needed to be cleaned. Badly. It gurgled my name, taunting me: Janet…come on…don’t keep ignoring me…stop being an ass…please…clean me…

What was once a lovely, melodic stream of water is now an anemic, name calling trickle, due to a filter that looks like the lungs of a three pack a day smoker. Clogged, black and ineffective.

Three weeks ago I had laid out the rubber gloves and bucket and then lost my enthusiasm for the project and left them there to remind me. So, the supplies were there and I had the time, which meant I got to work emptying the water one bucketful at a time in order to get to the leaves at the bottom and give the filter a fighting chance.

The reason I’m telling you this is: Midway through the scooping of the water — out comes a dead bird. A small, (not a baby) obviously not so bright, brown bird. I’ve observed them bathing and drinking in that fountain for years, so, unless this was a suicide, or a contract hit, this guy had not been the sharpest tool in the shed.

And it made me wonder: What the fuck is the thing with birds today? I can go years, no make that decades, without a bird incident; so I immediately ran inside to look it up lest I see something shiny and forget once again.

There is a ton written on birds hitting widows, planes, and cars, but people — not so much. And when they do, they usually hit them in the head, often to weigh in on a morning of bad bed-head by grabbing a few stands and some scalp for their nest or to warn them away from their hatchlings.

MY bird was nowhere near my head.
Maybe he was trying to grab me under the arm and carry me to his nest; or in order to fashion a cape for me like the birds in Snow White, he was trying to get my arm length measurements.
The jury is still out.

The inter-web also mentions the fact that sometimes birds just don’t see the things they fly into — like I’m invisible. Not a real boost to my self-esteem.

I posted on Facebook: On my walk this morning a small bird flew into the back of my left shoulder and then kept going without so much as a “Pardon Me”. What do you think, texting while flying or an Omen?

When I looked it up here’s what THEY say about Omens:
“Everything is an omen, really.(We knew that) There is a reason for everything, nothing happens by accident. We just need to learn to realize these omens and how to interpret them easily. The more “wild” the omen, the more “dramatic” the outcome, or so it would seem.

Many people feel that birds represent freedom, as they can soar up into the sky where there are no obstacles and go wherever they wish, and then return to the Earth once more. Also because of this I suppose you could view them as almost having two aspects: one that departs and one that returns. What that means to you is up to you. Also, one could consider birds as messengers. Some view them as messengers to the gods. There is a phrase that begins, “a little bird told me…” (I thought that started with my seventh grade teacher Miss Law who was sneakily trying to get to the truth of a math quiz scandal)
To me, birds also represent awareness, since they can soar above almost anything on this planet and can witness everything–taking place outside, at least. They are like the wind. They start out one place and end up in another, carrying stories and memories with them.”

Okay…Kind of a stretch, but I get that everything is an omen, so I looked up dead bird and here’s the message there:

These beautiful animals are actually messengers from the Divine, Spirit, Universe, God, whatever name you choose. The message is not one of doom and gloom, you are not going to die in the next three days, it is not a “forerunner” of death and destruction. (Well, THAT’S a relief.)
Dead birds are actually very similar to the “Death” card in a tarot deck. It represents a death, but it is a death of something you have been focused on. It could be the death or “end” of a bad relationship, or a bad financial situation, or a behaviour pattern you have been wanting to break, etc. And with all things that end, the way is then clear for new opportunities to come into your life. (Yippee)
For instance, if you are in an unhealthy relationship, it is unlikely that a new healthy relationship is going to come into your life if you are still involved or healing from the unhealthy one. Once you have dealt with it and are ready to move on, the universe will send you a message to let you know that it is now time to move forward with your life.
That is what these dead birds are, a message that whatever you were dealing with is now “dead” and behind you and you are now ready to move forward with the new opportunity that has been presenting itself to you but that you have been ignoring for some reason. So, see the sign, and determine what message it is sending you and be grateful that you have now received the message and start looking for the new opportunity.
http://pathwayconnection.com/what-does-seeing-dead-birds-mean/

As I’ve written about lately, there are SO MANY endings and beginnings for me right now that this makes perfect sense — and I know that a bunch of you guys are going through the same thing, so take my bird omen and run (fly) with it.

What is mine is yours, as always — you’re welcome!

Do you believe in omens or animal totems? Got a story you’d like to share? Think this is all a big bag of bullshit?

Carry on,
xox

What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.
– T. S. Eliot

The End is where we start from…hmmmmmm…

Yesterday was about endings; and about calling my power back. I have to walk the talk, right?

For over two weeks I was so knotted up about it that I had knitted a virtual car cozy, a sweater the size of a car cover inside my gut.

You see, I had decided to put what was left of my dearly departed store into auction; all of it; lock, stock and vintage submarine lights.

Just like Daniele wrote about yesterday, (the timing for me was uncanny) it was time for me to call my power back to me; BUT the hang up was this: at the intersection of empowerment and the past; I kept meeting up with my old energy.

Like some goody-two-shoes a-hole who never forgets an uncomfortable incident; or an appointment; my energy would persistently meet me — right where I left it — back in Victim-Ville 2009.

But since I’ve changed so drastically since that time we were not a match anymore and it really started to feel like shit.

So I avoided going there.

I let the remaining items sit at different stores around the city on consignment, and I paid them NO MIND; because they brought back horrible memories that would instantly knock me out of whack, make me feel bad about myself, and force me to eat Fritos by the fistful.

Every fucking time. That sticky, stinky, shitty, loser energy met me there.

That is a law and the sooner we all realize that, the faster we can shift it.

Here’s how it works:
If you had a fight in a restaurant, the next time you go back there, the minute you give your car to the valet you’ll feel that gut-punch; because your energy is the guy that opens the door and greets you there “Welcome back, we’ve been waiting here for you .”

Shit.

How many times have you had a bad experience with the place that services your car, or the dry cleaners; only to have it repeat itself over and over?

I remember when I went to auditions back in the day; there was a big casting agent on Sunset who was nice as can be, but I NEVER booked a job there. After a while, my disappointment would meet me at the door with its Cheshire grin, making sure the casting session was doomed.

So if you meet your energy where you left it— how can you change that?

First, by being aware of it, recognizing that it’s your low expectations, your disappointment, or your painful past that is causing the gut-knot.

Also, time has passed and things have changed. You’ve changed. Right?

When you do that, you can rewrite the story, and while you’re at it you can make sure it’s a much better one. It’s the story of how you called your power back; how inanimate objects, buildings and even people have no power over you — and that you’ve moved on and left no forwarding address.

It’s easier said than done, it took weeks, but that’s what worked for me you guys.

I had a real Come to Jesus with myself (I’ve been doing that a lot lately) where I told myself that inertia was no longer acceptable. Neither was settling, acting like a victim, or being broke.

For Godsakes woman it’s been five years, the statute of limitations on powerless victimhood has expired! Round up all that stuff, take all your old juju off of it by remembering how good and exciting it was to purchase it in the first place, and SELL IT! Go call your power back to you and then be done with it!

Even though I seldom take my own advice, I woke up yesterday, the day everything was getting picked up, with no knot. For once…and for all.

The day could not have gone any better. It went faster, smoother and was more organized than I’d ever imagined. Obviously, my loser energy had flown to Vegas to cause some real trouble.

As I drove away feeling newly empowered, reborn, like a Phoenix from the ashes, it made me remember all the times that the energy that met me — was good. It does work both ways ya know.

So I’ve re-written that story, the story of the store and the flood, and in the new version the auction results five years later — are AMAZING!

So the end is where I’ll be starting from — a new beginning,  a fresh start.

Where does your shitty energy never fail to meet you? How can you re-write your story and regain your power? Do you believe you need an ending to have a beginning?

Lets talk.

Carry on,

xox