change

In a mother’s womb were two babies. One asked the other:
“Do you believe in life after delivery?” The other replied, “Why, of course. There has to be something after delivery. Maybe we are here to prepare ourselves for what we will be later.”

“Nonsense” said the first. “There is no life after delivery. What kind of life would that be?”

The second said, “I don’t know, but there will be more light than here. Maybe we will walk with our legs and eat from our mouths. Maybe we will have other senses that we can’t understand now.”

The first replied, “That is absurd. Walking is impossible. And eating with our mouths? Ridiculous! The umbilical cord supplies nutrition and everything we need. But the umbilical cord is so short. Life after delivery is to be logically excluded.”

The second insisted, “Well I think there is something and maybe it’s different than it is here. Maybe we won’t need this physical cord anymore.”

The first replied, “Nonsense. And moreover if there is life, then why has no one has ever come back from there? Delivery is the end of life, and in the after-delivery there is nothing but darkness and silence and oblivion. It takes us nowhere.”

“Well, I don’t know,” said the second, “but certainly we will meet Mother and she will take care of us.”

The first replied “Mother? You actually believe in Mother? That’s laughable. If Mother exists then where is She now?”

The second said, “She is all around us. We are surrounded by her. We are of Her. It is in Her that we live. Without Her this world would not and could not exist.”

Said the first: “Well I don’t see Her, so it is only logical that She doesn’t exist.”

To which the second replied, “Sometimes, when you’re in silence and you focus and you really listen, you can perceive Her presence, and you can hear Her loving voice, calling down from above.”
– Útmutató a Léleknek

I’m writing this as a self reminder, although I’m sure you guys could use one too.
Let this salvage your week or at least your Sunday.

I cannot control the traffic or the way other people (idiots) drive.

I cannot control the cable guy, the electrician, the handyman, the trash picker-uppers, the tree trimmers, the guy who’s making my latte, or the air conditioning repair guy. I cannot control the time they will arrive (which is NEVER inside the promised window) how well they will perform their task, or what personality traits they posses, (too chatty, too pissy, too flirty, too…)


I cannot control anyone, or anything about the DMV. Period. End of story.

I cannot control the weather. I can have every app, and alert, but it will seldom cooperate when I hold an event outdoors; and I NEVER have an umbrella or sweater when I need one.

I cannot control my dogs or any animal for that matter. I can guide them and train them, and make suggestions, but they all have minds of their own and there will be slobber on my white walls, water and/or muddy footprints all over my white slipcovers and wood floors, and fossilized vomit under the bed. It’s inevitable despite my best intentions. This goes for children as well.

I cannot control my spouse, or my family. (See above).

I cannot control the government, the postal system, the medical system or the educational system. But I can vote.

I cannot control bad grammar. Their-there-they’re. Its-it’s. I could care less, It’s a mute point, ugh
Dear God, make it stop.

I cannot control the speed or dependability of my WiFi connection, although I still think if I yell obscenities loud enough, it will be shamed into complying.

I cannot control my hair. Where on my body it grows, what color it wants to be, and its texture. It’s time to give up the good fight.
While I’m at it, I cannot control eye wrinkles, cellulite, lip lines or dark under eye circles, so I’m done letting Madison Avenue sell me the snake oil.

I cannot control how my garden grows. I can fertilize, weed and trim, but it has plans of its own to which I am not privy.

I cannot control aging. It has a superpower called gravity, and the combination are unbeatable. I surrender…you bitches.

I cannot control what others think of me. It is impossible.
I can carefully cultivate my image; but one false move, one bad outfit, snarky comment, or piece of spinach in my teeth and all that hard work is shot to hell.

I cannot control the manners of others. When a man lets a heavy door slam in my face as I exit a building right behind him; instead of jumping on his back like a crazed spider monkey…I send him love.

I cannot control what’s happening on the planet. Too many moving parts. (Which is true for all of it – everything in life.)

What I’ve discovered is this: ALL of my suffering comes from thinking that I can control things. I (we) cannot.

But here’s the one thing I CAN control – my perception and attitude. That’s it.

I can control ONLY my own energy and what I bring to the day, to the table, to every situation I encounter – even to the mirror, and THAT can change it all.

As my mom used to say when we were fighting with each other, as kids, “You just pay attention to yourself – watch where YOU’RE going.

Anything I missed? Add to the list!

Enjoy your weekend!
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

This is so fucking good you guys that I read it three times today…and I wish I’d written it. Especially nessesary with all the changes in the air right now.
It’s by the beautiful and brilliant Daniele LaPort
Take it away Daniele!

“I call all of my power back to me now. I am whole and complete. (Say it with me now.)

I call all of my power back to me now. I am whole and complete.

I was moving out of a house recently and told a friend I was going to smudge the place. (You know, “smudge” — you burn some sage and clean the energy out. Stay with me, this is going to get more logical for some of you. Actually…it will probably get weirder.) So, Cool Friend asks me, “Why bother smudging? You’re leaving.” Fair question. Usually you want to clear out the energy of places you’re moving IN to. “Because, I want to take all of my energy with me.” I clarified.

“Huh,” nodded Cool Friend. “That’s a new one. I like it.” I skipped the sage and went for vocal incantation. More direct.

I’ve been quietly working with a particular energy worker for the last year+. Ataana. Thanks to Ataana and my cosmic crew, my energy tool kit is super-activated now. This is one of my choice instruments:

I call all of my power back to me now. I am whole and complete.

At my old house, I walked through every room and repeated the magic formula. I call all of my power back to me now. I am whole and complete. Then I dropped the keys in the mailbox and got on with my new life. Clean. Free. All my power with me.

LIFE. It’s all energy. You know this.

When we give energy away willingly, intentionally, with positivity, we get stronger. We become truer, purer, bigger. Power-full.

When we give our energy away unconsciously, under duress, as we are victimized, or taken advantage of, when we over-give out of a sense of deficiency or obligation, we … don’t get stronger. We constrict, we get depleted, we start to stiffen from fear.

You are always in relationship with your life force. Ideally, you want access to your FULL life force. Not just half it because some of your power is on obligation-loan to the needy, or stuck in a past life, or knotted up with the person who did you wrong, or tangled up in dreading the future. Painful events create fissures that your power gets trapped in. You want to empty those pockets and get your gold back.

I call all of my power back to me now. I am whole and complete.

Words have incredible power. You know this.

THIS IS HOW POWER RETRIEVAL WORKS:

You don’t want to ever run into that person. The very thought turns your stomach. Get bigger than it…. I call all of my power back to me now. I am whole and complete.

The love songs that make you sick. Own the beauty. Sing it for someone else. Take it back. I call all of my power back to me now. I am whole and complete.

The scene of the crime, that words that broke your spirit, the time you got rejected — painful stuff … those situations all have your energy inside of them, waiting to be freed up and restored to you. I call all of my power back to me now. I am whole and complete.

The places that you used to go to, but avoid now, extract your mojo out of them…I call all of my power back to me now. I am whole and complete.

The years you tried to make it work, poring, praying, pleading, dancing on egg shells … take back every plea, take back every prayer — take back every time you wished for it to be different than it was — it’s over now. I call all of my power back to me now. I am whole and complete.

The incident that traumatized you. The blow that caused the wounds. Call your strength home. Snap it back from the betrayer, from the abuser. Take it all back. NOW. I call all of my power back to me now. I am whole and complete.

Triggered agony, symbols of defeat, waves of anxiety, emotions of disempowerment, memories that really hurt. Transmute it all into fuel. …I call all of my power back to me now. I am whole and complete.

For all the times you were quiet about deception and disrespect, quiet about the life force that was being syphoned from your generous nature. Speak your power into fullness. …I call all of my power back to me now. I am whole and complete.

THIS IS AN ONGOING PRACTICE

Part of your old chapter will follow you in to your new chapter. “Stop resenting that have you to deal with this,” Ataana would say to me. “Every trigger is your power wanting to be called back.” In that case, instead of resenting the shit out of recurring triggers, get excited when you trip on them. Like this: Negative feeling happens. A-ha! THERE’S where my power has been. Right where I left it.

I call all of my power back to me now. I am whole and complete.

Take your power back so you can put it to wonderful use. Because if it’s floating out there, someone else is going to plug into it and hoover on your juju. Yes, it works that way.

You have the power. Maybe you left some of it somewhere. It’s still yours and it will always be yours. Go get it.

I call all of my power back to me now. I am whole and complete.”

Thanks Daniele, genius advice.

xox

I was going to write about the fact that there are a whole bunch of us, right now, about to make a leap.

Thinking about making a leap,

Just waiting for the …courage to make that leap!

But instead, all I want to say is that we should all get together energetically; because we’re better together you guys. So let’s leap as a group — lets be fucking brave!

Who’s with me?!

Ready…
Set…
GO!

xox

DEVOTION

de·vo·tion
dəˈvōSH(ə)n/
noun.
1.) Love, loyalty, or enthusiasm for a person, activity
synonyms: loyalty, faithfulness, fidelity, constancy, commitment, adherence,allegiance, dedication.

2.) Religious worship or observance.
synonyms: devoutness, piety, religiousness, spirituality, godliness, holiness, sanctity
“a life of devotion”

3.) Prayers or religious observances.

Devotion. What does that mean to me? What does it mean to you?

As a Catholic I thought I had an idea; but the edges have blurred and I’ve been left to define it for myself.

This is an interesting time of year.
It’s ripe with the energy of endings; and new beginnings.
Deaths and re-births —— figuratively and literally.

We can practice our devotion inside this energy of change with Easter, Passover, the full moon, eclipses, and all other assortments of ancient and new age cosmic rites of passage.

Take me for instance; I am sitting as I write this, in a pew, basking in the warm glow of stained glass, inside of St. John The Baptist De La Salle Catholic Church— the church I grew up in — the church of my youth.

The one where I whiled away hour after hour of my childhood.
Some in innocent devotion, kneeling with sweaty little girl hands piously folded together, fervently praying my little girl prayers and later, in a pre-pubescent stupor, stifling yawns during my eight years there in the late sixties, early seventies.

Now, I’ve gotta tell ya, this retired Catholic is finding it…surreal to be back here, and I have to make this snappy.

I could spontaneously combust if the powers-that-be realize I’m here, or the light from that stained glass baby Jesus hits me just right.

All kidding aside, recently my Catholic roots have been calling me. Their siren’s song running lightly in the background of my life.

It all started when I began burning Frankincense incense in the mornings. I attempted subconsciously to counteract its effects by simultaneously playing a Buddhist chant, with mixed results — that smell to me, still to this day signals Lent.
Then I noticed, lo and behold it is exactly that time of year. Hmmmm…

That smell transports me back to Stations Of The Cross, a ritual of remembrance of the worst day in the life of Jesus Christ.

As a little girl I loved rituals.
The smells, the cool, dimly lit ambiance, the notes played on the organ that resonated inside my chest and head, and the drone of the priest’s voice. They all conspired to “send me” to another place and time. (still do).

As I write this there is an actual organ rehearsal happening right this minute. Sending me…

Yet, even as that devout little girl I had a hard time wrapping my brain around commemorating the days leading up to someone’s horrible, torturous, barbaric death and THAT little kernel of doubt right there started my life as a seeker.

Devotion as religious observance.
I sat with my dearly departed father Friday in another church much closer to my home, (that now makes it twice in one week, a personal record as an adult).

We sat together devoutly, he with his invisible hand on my knee to keep me from bolting during Stations Of The Cross, the first one I’ve sat throughout since eighth grade. It was faster and much…dryer than I remembered.

And no fragrance of frankincense — a crushing disappointment.

Still, I sat with my dad on the tenth anniversary of his passing; in church; during Lent; and only one of us made it out alive…barely.

I’ll tell anyone I did it for him, but truth be told, that experience was calling ME.

Devotion.  

To others?  To a practice?  To a cause? 

I think we can all relate to that.

How about…

Devotion as Love and loyalty, enthusiasm for a person or an activity.

To tradition.

To family , friends and matters of the heart.

To times past.

To ritual.

To the planet.

To sacred places; temples, sanctuaries, churches, nature, Sephora, the bakery.

To whatever sends you and floats your boat.

To kindness and courage.

To mala beads, crystals, chanting, yoga and meditation.

To ancient childhood memories resurfacing.

To triggers; Smells. Sounds. People.

I’m getting a bit misty eyed over here.
It must be a combination of the lousy organ music (he just needs more practice), and fact that my fifty-seven year old butt is currently seated on the same hard wooden bench that my innocently sweet, but always questioning, seven-year old butt sat.

Devotion to change.
I used to believe that religion and spirituality were mutually exclusive.
One told you no, the other said… perhaps.

Call it old age, or just a general unclenching of the fists that happens naturally over time; but I’m finding myself more and more belonging to Team Meh where our motto is: “Well, that’s not my thing — but good for you!”

Devotion to Neutrality or I’m in a Switzerland State of Mind
Daily I struggle with judgement. I know, it’s just me.
I’m striving to be for more things than I’m against.

I feel like after this week I can move the Catholic religion to my neutral list. At last!

Some people hang out in groovy cafes and write.
I sit weeping in Catholic Churches.

Who knows what’s next?

Can you explain devotion? What are you devoted to, I’d love to know.

Happy Easter & Passover my loves,
Xox

“If you ask me what I came into this life to do, I will tell you: I came to live out loud.”
-Emile Zola

Hi Guys,
I freakin’ love this!
Ask yourselves –– What would you do in this situation?
(I’d be super squeamish about cutting up an entire fish, blech!)
I think we should ALL push ourselves outside our comfort zones more often. Who’s with me?
Carry On,
xox

I saw this the other day.
Underneath Cheryl wrote: I need to tattoo this on the inside of my eyelids.

And that made me laugh –– Me too!

Because guys, honest to God that’s life’s greatest challenge, isn’t it?

To have the knowledge that you make your life happen, but that you do it together with Universal assistance?

It is such a fine line, a tight rope walk of knowing when to just quit asking, surrender, stop micro managing, stop yearning and pushing and striving, to get down off our high horses, thinking WE know best (because we do –– hey, its our life) and let something greater than ourselves…
Take. The. Wheel.

It takes a lifetime of practice.

I fuck up. A lot.
I zig when I should have zagged,
Talk when I should be quiet,
Make decisions based on fear,
Freeze when action is required,
And sit stewing in self-doubt-soup for much longer than is healthy.

It is always when I’m going it alone…

Then I read something like the saying that Cheryl posted –– and I’m once again reminded to give up the fight!

I do so much better when I listen for directions instead of making up my own.

Divine Intervention…ahhhhhh. What a relief, you can drive this weekend.

I’m gonna put my feet up y’all, how about you?

love you,
carry on,
xox

I Resist Nothing

Not the traffic,
Not the weather,
Not the donut left on my desk.

Not the automated email reply,
Not the snarky parking guy,
Not the dog/child underfoot who’s a pest.

I Resist Nothing

Not pushing a door that says pull,
Not my itchy sweater made of wool,
Not taking that f*cking DMV test.
.
Not the annoying voice of the lady in line,
Not letting the guy with one item take his turn before mine,
Not that second glass of wine.

I Resist Nothing

Not the desire to take a nap,
Not the last-minute changes to my schedule,
Not taking an extra minute to linger in the rays of the warm sun.

Not the urge to cry when the movie ends,
Not the advise,
Not the compliment,
Not taking the time to have coffee with a friend.

I Resist Nothing

I can be the Queen of resistance. I’m an equal opportunity resistor.
The good AND the bad, so I’m just asking myself, who wins when I do that?

What are you resisting and why?
Carry on,
xox