choices

*This is an oldie but goodie from a little over a year ago. Similar drama, same cast of characters, familiar circus—just the monkeys have changed. Better shoes.
Carry on,
xox

“Whenever you become anxious or stressed, outer purpose has taken over, and you lost sight of your inner purpose. You have forgotten that your state of consciousness is primary, all else secondary.”
~Eckhart Tolle~

Man, can you feel it? There’s a LOT of drama out there.

It’s like the Shakespeare Festival has staked its tent and all the players are acting out their melodrama…inside OUR lives. Crazy has come to town.

It feels not only national, but global…even Cosmic.
Lots of amped up solar activity lately. March even spit us an X class solar flare on its way out. I blame everything wonky on solar flares. Computer goes down, car won’t start, dog poops in the house.

“I call it! Solar flare!” From bad TV reception, to cranky pants postal workers, to epic fly away hair and static electricity. I went to pet the dog last night and produced an electrical arc that would have made Tesla proud. “Solar flare!”

If you think that full moons bring out the crazies, I betcha twenty bucks solar flares are worse.

Mother Earth is even rattled for Pete’s sake. It’s rockin’ and rolllin’, and keeping us all guessing. “They” even say that the 8.2 in Chile was not “The Big One”. “They” are not helping. “They” need be run out-of-town with torches and pitchforks. Kidding. But seriously people, you don’t know ANYTHING for sure. Pipe down or soon everyone in Chile and California will be sleeping in the park.

Oh yeah, Crazy loves to camp.

Driving is especially insane these days. On the freeway this morning, there must have been an accident every mile and a half.
People are short-tempered and stressed, and that makes them drive really fast while texting, eating an Egg McMuffin and putting on mascara.

I’d tell you it’s safer to fly, but…honest to God, where’s that freaking Malaysian plane?

The energy seems to be crackling with chaos and turmoil. So how do we stay above the fray? How do we not get caught up in all this drama? Especially when the majority of it doesn’t even belong to us?

1) TURN OFF CNN.

2) Breathe and stay in the moment. Someone’s got to keep a cool head.
Don’t worry about what “could” happen. Breathe and stay in the moment.

If the Earth opens up and swallows your neighbor’s house…breathe and stay in the moment.
If the car next to you swerves and flips on it’s back. Breathe and stay in the moment.

3) Keep a cool head. Stay grounded. It’s not your shit. Help out.
Be one of the people who stays calm and carries on. We need you.
If it’s not happening to you directly, breathe and stay in the moment so you can be of assistance.

If YOUR house is hit by an asteroid, you know what I’m gonna say:
Breathe and stay in the moment.
Then grab the dog and run.

XoxJanet

How crazy is it where you are?
How do you stay grounded? Or do you? I want to hear about it in the comments below.

Lately my happiness has been so conditional it’s not even funny. So Seriously NOT funny you guys!

If my happiness relies on the people and circumstances around me being just so, well, …I’m fucked.

So I’ve pretty much lived in and out of my own fuckdom these past few weeks; and maintaining the least bit of equilibrium has been work.

Hard work is an understatement . It is some of the hardest work I can remember.

Meaning: I’ve had to be mindful. I’ve had to meditate, distract myself, bite my tongue, walk outside, listen to music and REALLY deliberately center myself to maintain happiness from moment to moment—from the inside, out.

I’m here to report that its been harder than I expected and I’ve screwed up and been launched onto the rocks quite a few times.
I have the scraps and bruises to prove it.

Previous to the end of July things had felt pretty good. Things had been on track. Things and been humming along nicely, and in truth, MY immediate things are still humming a happy little tune; but this eye of the hurricane which I’ve found myself traversing feels precarious.

All around me high velocity chaos is whooshing and roaring, leaving me flummoxed and dizzy. If you look close inside the shitstorm you can probably see me clicking my heels, shouting loudly over the din to maintain that secure feeling of calm.
There’s no place like clarity!
Theres no place like peace!
There’s no place like happiness!
Whoosh……………………rocks.

I actually had this thought the other day: Can we even trust happiness?
For most of us it is so fickle; fleeting and conditional, that the safer money would be to bet on sadness.
Sadness is a given.
Sadness is reliable and punctual. It never RSVP’s, why would it bother? It always shows up.
Sadness is trustworthy, it never disappoints.

“Fifty percent happy, fifty percent sad, THAT is the Ideal Life Ratio.”

I was once told that if you could maintain that ratio, keeping the scales balanced equally between the two, that was an amazing accomplishment and a life well lived.

Really? Fifty percent was the best I could hope for?
Do those sound like good odds to you? Not me.
I didn’t agree with those odds then and I still don’t, and neither should you.

You give me fifty-fifty, and I want more! People, we need to have higher aspirations.

I like my bacon well done, my eggs over medium, and I like my happiness the same way I like my love—unconditional, or at least as unconditional as humanly possible.

If I can manage to disentangle my happiness from the circumstances that surround me, I stand a much better chance of maintaining it. But how?

First I had to know, without a shadow of a doubt that I control NOTHING. I have absolutely NO control over anyone or anything. The ONLY control I have is over my own feelings, thoughts, and perceptions.

Whew! What a relief!

I know if I join the swirling chaos, even for a few minutes, the current carries me away, off into the rocks of confusion, powerlessness, and ultimately—sadness, and often it wasn’t even my own shit. I let someone else’s shit sweep me away. Bravo me.

So…what to do?

What if I could accomplish the seemingly impossible?

What if I could witness a bunch of shitstorms around me, but not get sucked in? What if I could help in whatever way possible, but maintain a secure lifeline back to my own clarity, calm and happiness.

Holy shit! What a life-changer that could be!
To no longer be at the whim of every assjack on the other end of a phone or steering wheel!
To no longer fall down the rabbit hole of an illness! To no longer fall prey to doubt or disappointment of myself or others!
To no longer let fear spin me around and around while wearing a blindfold and holding scissors!

Unconditional happiness. What? That’s right, you heard me!
Happiness based only on what’s going on INSIDE not OUTSIDE of me. The eye of the hurricane. Literally.

But Man! I’ve gotta tell ya, it takes a LOT of focus!
It is some of the hardest work I’ve ever done and I’ve gotta say, it’s a lot easier to let yourself go to sad, (or crabby, or teary, or pissed, same thing).

Sometimes, it even makes fifty percent look like a blessing…

Ideal Life Ratio my ass! Not for me!
Eighty/Twenty. That’s MY goal.
Hard work I know, but I’m worth it.

Carry on my peeps,
xox

Gaining clarity.
Getting clearer on what I want and where my path is taking me.
Often, no make that always, knowing what I DON’T want brings what I DO want that much more into focus.
Trial and error. Success and failure. Happiness and despair. They all bring clarity.
After I thought about that for awhile I made a list:

I got disappointed into clarity
I got frustrated into clarity
I got angered into clarity
I fumbled my way into clarity

I ran toward clarity
I commando crawled toward clarity
I skipped joyfully into clarity
I’ve been dragged into clarity

I found my footing on my way into clarity
I danced my way into clarity
I stumbled my way into clarity
I lost my footing on my way into clarity
I fell headfirst into clarity

I prayed myself into clarity
I chanted my way into clarity
I meditated my way into clarity
I hiked my way into clarity
I exercised myself into clarity

I lost friends on my way into clarity
I made new friends on my way into clarity
I lost jobs on my way into clarity
I got hopelessly lost on my way into clarity

I cried my way into clarity
I shouted and screamed my way into clarity
I slept my way into clarity
I got scared into clarity
I lost money on my way into clarity

I resisted my way into clarity
I argued my way into clarity
I changed my mind to find clarity
I took advice to gain clarity
I shunned advice on my way into clarity

I read books to find clarity
I listened to talks, music and Oprah to find clarity.
I reinvented to find clarity
I talked my way into clarity
I found out who I really was to gain clarity

I had luck on my side on my way into clarity
I hustled, whined and begged in order to gain clarity
I had magic with me to show me clarity
I laughed my way into clarity

I made mistakes on my way into clarity
I fucked up big time on my way into clarity
I may have gotten fucked on my way into clarity
I got better glasses in order to find clarity

I gained insights on my way into clarity
I was loud on my way to clarity
I was silent on my way to clarity
I realized I didn’t know shit on my way into clarity

I’ve had great, inspired ideas on my way into clarity
I’ve had sucky, horrible ideas on my way into clarity
I’ve been funny on my way into clarity
I’ve been completely humor-free on my way to clarity

I’ve been exhilarated on my way into clarity
I’ve done the “dead man walking” Zombie limp into clarity
I created my way into clarity
I destroyed my way into clarity

I got annoyed into clarity
I joined the crowd on my way into clarity
I bucked the status quo into clarity
I became still enough to find clarity

I loved my way into clarity
I followed the signs into clarity
I ignored the signs on my way into clarity

Then I lost it…
And every time, I started over.

Carry on,
xox

Photo by Roberto Melotti
http://www.robertomelotti.net

* This was a poem I wrote last summer when everyone and everything was going to shit—Hey, wait a minute, that feels a lot like this summer! WTF?
Take a look, know that we’re all in the same leaky, stinky boat together, and that This Too Shall Pass.
Change is a constant, remember that.
Now go have yourselves a crazy-ass weekend!
xox

There side by side they stand,
Faith and Hope, on the other side of Fear.
Beckoning me to come toward THEM.
Back MY way they won’t come, that’s clear.

I scream prayers but they don’t listen,
I yell and don’t make sense.
This new way has not been christened,
I weigh my options, I straddle the fence.

Insisting I take a step forward,
reassuring me, guiding me home.
They never waver, they won’t judge me,
no matter how off course I roam.

“Don’t you dare suggest forgiveness,
when my heart is broke in two!
Never talk of “new tomorrows”.
Look through MY eyes and see THAT view!”

But come with me they wouldn’t,
down my dark and twisted trail.
They explained they really couldn’t,
if I wanted healing to prevail.

“You can only catch a glimpse of us,
there inside your angst.
To really see us, drop defenses, mend those fences,
practice gratitude – then give thanks.”

“For inside every dilemma,
every horror known to man,
lies a nugget of redemption,
You’ll find it, we know you can!”

Faith and Hope stood side by side,
at the end of that dark trail.
They had walked a ways ahead of me,
THEY had done it first – so I couldn’t fail.

Hang in there loves,
xox

What in the hell was going on? I had unwittingly been given a front-row seat to a disaster that I’d known was going to happen for a year!

Why the hell was I in Hawaii again? What was my part in this tragedy?

I never wanted to be someone who predicts disasters. Seriously Universe? Give me another job. Anything.
Something else. Something not so fucking scary.

Be careful what you wish for. Now I talk to dead people. But not the scary ones. Funny ones. The bossy but kind ones.
Thank God (Scott) for small favors.

Anyway, the local anchor came back onscreen to inform us that one of the deep ocean buoys had registered a tsunami fifteen feet high and getting larger, with a velocity of over five hundred miles per hour, headed directly toward the Hawaiian Islands.

It would get to us in five hours.
3 a.m.
Of course it was coming in the middle of the night! Fucking three a.m!
The witching hour. The time when nothing good ever happens. Oh, and by-the-way, dark water is one of my biggest fears.
I was petrified.

Ginger was feeling sick and went bed. The guys opened another bottle of wine and started playing cards, remaining lighthearted, partying while waiting for the inevitable.

I went back to our room, shivering with anxiety under the blankets, glued to the TV while the disaster siren wailed in the background.

Right around midnight they got the second buoy reading. The wave was larger and picking up speed as it headed our way.

Suddenly the intercom came on inside the condo. Nobody even knew there was an intercom connected to the main resort which was run by Marriott.

A voice cleared it’s throat.

An extremely nervous young man’s voice, shaky, cracking and squeaking, blared loudly throughout the condo. Haltingly, he instructing everyone in units below the fifth floor to evacuate to the roof. “Bring blankets…pillows…water and, um, your shoes, it’s going to be a long night”. His anxiety was palpable.

Uh, okay Voice of Authority.
Didn’t they have anyone available with a more mature tone? Something deep and fatherly? A voice that could console us and instill calm.
This kid’s voice and delivery were comical to me. In my imagination he was the pimply faced nephew of the lady who fed the stray cats behind the parking garage. One minute he was doing his calculus homework, the next, he was behind a microphone, advising hundreds of tourists during an impending disaster. He was the only one that was expendable in an emergency. Everyone important had a task.
Holy crap, he was the best they had.

Thank God something was funny.

One of trembly, squeaky, scared guy’s announcements advised us all to fill our bathtubs in order to have plenty of drinking water in case the sanitation plant was wiped out.

Intermittently he’d come back on with further instructions,”Anyone with a vehicle in the lower garages, please move them to higher ground behind the main hotel.” he advised, sounding as if he were on the verge of tears.

Not long afterwards I heard voices, car keys, and the front door slam as the guys went to move our cars.

In the dark from our balcony, I watched the groundskeepers running around like headless chickens rushing to clear the sand and pool surround of hundreds chairs. Then they emptied the rental hut with its kayaks, snorkels and fins, inner tubes and dozens of surf and boogie boards.

If you watch the Thailand tsunami videos it is those seemingly innocuous beach toys that become deadly projectiles in fast-moving water. You may not immediately drown, but a surf board or a beach chair coming at you at hundreds of miles an hour will kill you for sure.

It was too much. The destruction in Japan was too much for me to handle.
I watched multi-story buildings get washed away like they were kids toys. We were so close to the water. Could our building withstand the rush of the initial wave? How high up would the water come?
The third floor, the fourth—or higher? What was going to happen?

I turned off the TV, the room was dark and quiet and instantly I felt a drop in my anxiety level. You can get sucked into the endless loop of death and destruction—its like a drug.

I unhooked the CNN IV, grabbed my phone, inserted my ear buds, pulled up a meditation, and started to calm my nervous system down. Slow…deep…breathing. In…and out… after a few minutes I could feel my shoulders drop and my face relax. I’d been unconsciously clenching my jaw for hours.

My mind started to unwind. The siren went way, fading into the distance, the boy’s terrified voice becoming a muffled form of white noise.
I actually relaxed into a half sleep state. Aware of my surroundings, but extremely relaxed.

The meditations came to an end. Silence. I was still okay.
No longer spinning in fear. No longer afraid.
“What’s going to happen, how bad will this be?” I asked no one in particular.
Just a question I needed answered.

Here’s where the magic happened.

A very loving, clear and calm voice answered back:
What do you want to happen? How bad do you want it to be?

What? I get a vote? This answer left me flabbergasted. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but this felt extraordinary.

Somehow, instinctively I knew that I couldn’t say make the tsunami go away—there are some things we are powerless to change.
What I could change was MY experience of it. What did I want to happen to me, to us?

Script it the voice said, and that has changed my life.

Okay…I said in my head, remembering the videos from Thailand, you can come up to the palm trees that line our pool area and define the boundary between the beach and our resort. That’s it. To the palm trees only, not into the pool and not into our resort.

No further conversation was needed. No idle chit-chat, no more Q & A.

I fell asleep. A deep sleep rich with meaningful dreams that I can’t remember
Inside one, a muffled voice that felt like it was underwater warned: Stay away from the ocean, Do NOT get near the water, We are on lockdown, stay inside your rooms.

It must be happening crossed my mind, but I was too deep to care.

Only as far as the palm trees…up to the palm trees…

When I finally opened my eyes I could see daylight. Raphael was asleep next to me and I could smell coffee.
Obviously the tsunami had come and gone—and everything seemed…normal.

These are pictures of the waterline the tsunami left behind. It is still waaaaay up the beach at this point, about three hours after it came ashore. It surged forty feet UP the beach, over dry sand, and stopped right at the palm trees that line the pool, and our resort.

Script it. Imagine it. Feel it. Ask for it. Relax.

That proved to me, without a doubt, that we can script our circumstances. There are things we can’t control, but there are so many that we can.

Get calm, and set boundaries. How bad/good do you want it to be? What do you want to happen?

We have control over our immediate circumstances.
Script it.

This changed my life–I hope it changes yours.

Carry on,
xox

IMG_0914 (check it out)

Bam!
Just like that on a Sunday morning, something to ponder. You can count on me for that…

So…which will it be today? Courage…or Comfort?
What about tomorrow?
…and the next day?

Carry on,
xox

This is from last summer but I like it — which is rare.
Happy Friday!
xox

At the center of your being you have the answer; you know who you are, and what you want
~ Lao Tzu

I can remember doing this exercise in one of Diana’s meditation workshops years ago after I had read about it in a book from my long distant past (please don’t ask me which one, that I can’t remember) I just remember being gobsmacked over the realization that the cells of my body may collectively know more than my brain, how I actually feel about things – so we tried it.

We being the women in the Wednesday group, and no men, you don’t need a uterus to try this exercise although it IS about observing the reaction your body has to certain words.

As a matter of fact one of my male friends says his butt puckers up.
Ha! I’ve got ya now…….keep reading, you’ll understand in a minute.

Words carry energy, on that we all agree, correcto?

Certain words can either feel expansive or contracting.

Expansive words/energy have to do with keeping your heart open, being receptive, being vulnerable.
Arms uncrossed, face and upper body open.

Contracting words/energy are all about fear, suppression, closing the gate, hoisting up the drawbridge and filling the moat with water – and a dragon.
Gathering in, armoring up and closing down.

Try this out, it’s visceral, the change may be subtle, but you will feel SOMETHING,
And that feeling is what you want to be on the lookout for.
Here goes. Say the word aloud:

Cancer
Money
Vacation
Commitment
Puppy
Deadline
Hospital
I Love you
Snake
Failure
Hate
I’m proud of you
Idiot

Did you feel it, that very subtle, or not so subtle opening and closing reaction as your body feeeeeeeels the energy of each word?

If you’re a doctor the word hospital probably won’t trigger you negatively, although, if someone says to you: They had to rush Timmy to the hospital!
I doubt you’ll feel nothing.

The same thing with money. It can have a very expansive feeling for some, and make others want to jump off a bridge.
That word has felt different ways to me at different times in my life, same word, just different energy.

Puppy is a mixed word for me nowadays also. 😉

Snakes? Snakes make me shiver. ‘Nuf said.

Remember: Language is a powerful thing, it can harm people as efficiently as a weapon, or raise someone’s soul to new heights, so be careful – really.

It can also give you the insight you need when your mind is chewing on a problem like a dog with a bone.

Say the word or words that coincide with what you’re thinking about out loud, and see how it feels in your body. Voila! There’s your answer.

I quit
I’m pregnant
Marry me
Let’s move
I’m leaving
I’m sorry

It’s a good one, I know!
Keep practicing and you’ll get better and better at figuring out how you REALLY feel about things.

If you feel inclined to comment, please do below. Remember the tribe learns a lot when you share from the heart.

Much love,
xox

It was heavier than I had imagined, and it left little bits of…something…all over the front of me, as a lovely parting gift.

“There.” I said after I dropped it down and kicked it into place. A brand new doormat large enough for the double front doors of the house rental project I’m working on.

As per my instructions: No flowers, no bright colors, nothing cutesy, completely inoffensive.
Just a simple tan-colored mat made of choir with a thin border and the word WELCOME in black. Not even a dark sinister black. A hue of medium blackish. A happy black, if you will.

“Oh my Gawd, I love everything!” she squealed.
We were near the end of this hellacious project and one of the principles had just finished a self guided tour of the place.

With such a limited budget the transformation was nothing short of amazing.

You could say it was alchemy. I’d call it a miracle. Right up there with turning water into wine, straw into gold, Bruce into Caitlyn.

“Oh, except that. I don’t like that at all.” All the gushing had stopped dead.
I turned my head to see what she was pointing and glaring at. Her response was definitive and whatever it was — Had. To. Go.

It was the freakin’ doormat.

“I hate when they say welcome.” she pronounced. “Take it back and get a plain one. No WELCOME.” and with that she went back inside and the gushing resumed.

It never occurred to me that the word WELCOME on a front doormat could elicit such a strong reaction.

Interesting…

“You’re right…you’re right.” I replied, struggling to pick up the mat and carry it back to the truck, thinking of my own bright blue front door mat that says HELLO in friendly white cursive.

Feeling rejected, the ginormous WELCOME mat put up a struggle going back to the truck and I was out of breath.
“They should start a line of doormats that read GO AWAY or DON’T BOTHER ME or GET OUT OF HERE. Someone is missing out on a fortune.” I gasped.

I figured I was far enough away that she couldn’t hear me, but from inside I heard laughter. “I’d buy those.” I heard her say.

Huh.

You Are Not Welcome.

The insight hit me like a bolt of lightning.

Maybe you can tell a lot about a person by their front door mat.

Some people, this woman included, do not lay out the welcome mat.
Not ever.
Not to their home, their feelings, their story or their life.

They are private and guarded and I get it.
Obviously that is a land I do not inhabit — but I read her loud and clear.

From where she stands WELCOME in friendly black letters — is a dirty word.

It was right then that the entire project began to make sense.
All white, beige and taupe.
No color.
Nothing with any personality.
Key word: Utilitarian.

Nothing offends, nothing makes an impression — it is a blank slate.

You know what? She’s right. It’s a rental.
Don’t leave anything of yourself behind. No clues to who you might be or what you like.
A brightly colored pillow belies whimsy, a choice of art shows your taste.

Don’t give yourself away to strangers and for Godsakes — no Welcome mats.

Oh well, to each his own.
Carry on,
xox

Do you have an aversion to WELCOME mats? Are you that private and guarded? Talk to me.

The house is still. It’s the middle of the night so…that’s appropriate.

The only sound I can hear is the soft whrrrrr of the refrigerator, which spends its nights keeping my kale and green drink ingredients cool and fresh.

Damn you stainless steel box of cold air! (yelled dramatically while waving a fist).

Rant Alert:
Why can’t my protein, vegetable laden juices taste like a chocolate malt?
WHHHYYYYYY??
Is that too much to ask?

I’m submitting a formal complaint right here and now. Things that are good for you have GOT to start tasting better…or else…

Anyway…
My refrigerator has undergone a recent renaissance.
It seems to follow my life’s trajectory. Right now it’s all cleanses, bitter greens and shit like that.

I’m home most days writing, so I give myself very few options. It keeps me from cheating with fat infused deliciousness.

Like a fat deli sandwich. Or a patty melt.

As a matter of fact there is nothing delicious within a three-mile radius. I’d have to get in my car and drive to go get it, and my laziness overrules my cravings for gooey goodness every time.

That means technically, I’m not an addict, which gives me some solace.

What I am is: a vessel seeking clarity…with a bad attitude…in dire need of a cheeseburger.

For about two decades the freezer in my apartment contained two things: vodka and cigarettes (if you’re just a casual smoker, keeping cigs in the freezer keeps them fresh) not even an ice-cube dared show its face. Later, ground coffee replaced the cigarettes.

Quick story about how THAT happened.
Back in ’93 when I had my first “energy work” done, a friend came by the apartment to get the dirt. Remember, I had been violently ill for three days.

She was one of my gossip girls, so she knew about the cigcicles, and since she could tell my story was going be juicy and warrant a smoke, she walked over to the kitchen, which was just to the left of where I was sitting, and opened the freezer.

Suddenly, she jumped back, as if she’d seen a ghost, dramatically slamming the thing shut. I watched it all happen, puzzled.

“What’s wrong?” I asked her, with my head tilted sideways like a dog hearing a high-pitched whistle.

My friend still standing in front of the closed freezer door replied, “A voice just said DONT SMOKE AROUND HER!”
“What?”
“Shit, I’d better go”

Man, the disembodied voices in my apartment in those days were bossy!

“Sit your ass down, I’ve got a story to tell.” I barked, taking a page out of their book.

And THAT was the end of my casual smoking.

I tried one occasionally in the years that followed but they made me feel awful, and when something stops being fun, I quit doing it. Think Jane Fonda Workouts.

So, back to the middle of the night as I tossed and turned and awfulized—mulling over all of life’s ginormous decisions.

I finally made the first one and that was to switch my brain from F*U mode to productive mode, remembering all the recent things I’ve heard and read on making life altering choices when you’re at a crossroads.

So, to save you the obsessing and the time and trouble, here is a list of the things you should ask yourself:

1) Will I regret not making this change? (Regrets are like walking around with a wet coat on. They are killjoys.)

2) Why exactly am I hesitant/ indecisive? Make a list. (The list that you make in the light of day will always be shorter than the phone book sized one you make at three AM…just sayin’).

3) What doors will close if I make this change? Do I care? (That one makes my butt clench. Here’s a great quote from Mark Nepo for the people pleasers among us: “I tried so hard to please that I never realized; No one was watching.”
Right!? Did the top of your head just blow off? Mine too)

4) Which choice will make the better story? (kinda like the movie viewing analogy from Saturday’s post.)

5) How does the choice or change FEEL? (that really should be number one. Check your kishke).

6) What’s the worst thing that can happen? (consult your three AM list, believe me, they’re ALL there).

7) Whats the BEST thing that can happen? (usually written on a Post It)

8) What would I tell my best friend to do? (sans snarkiness, jealousy, competitiveness and ego).

9) What’s the “next right thing” to do to stay free of ego? (In other words, check your motivation. Is it pure? Not really? THERE’S your answer.)

10) What choice or change would make me the proudest in five years? (That’s often the clincher for me. Can’t say I’m too proud of myself when I can’t be brave and I play it safe.)

There you have it. I hopes this helps. Clarity is key to making the best choices. That and chocolate.
Love you all,

Xox

“Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”

~Albert Einstein

When the past tries to repeat itself what do you do?

I hide in the closet behind all the clothes, facing the wall…

But seriously. When you see yourself; on your ass; sliding down that same old slippery slope—what’s your strategy?

I take out my contacts and pretend I can’t see the colossal shitstorm bearing down on me…
Like the ostrich and the toddler playing peek-a-boo, if I can’t see it—it didn’t happen.

Bad decisions. Lousy choices.

In men, jobs, tankini bathing suits, and those nachos drenched in the horrific orange plastic cheese at the movies.
Why do I always think “this time it’ll be different?”

Humanity at large; and women in general, possess the “benefit of the doubt” chip.

As a card carrying member of both of those groups you can rest assured that many, many, questionable, less than desirable people and situations have benefited from my doubts.

That is until a friend along the way reminded me of the quote above by Albert Einstein.

It was the polite way for her to deal me the insanity card.

For a few years my entire deck was filled with insanity and jokers. I gave everyone another chance
.
“That’s okay.” I’d reply out loud.
“Hurt me again” my heart echoed silently.

Until I had had enough.

He cheated and cried. Big alligator tears of remorse. Then he did it again.

Apparently he had a complete lack of impulse control. When his dick saw a pretty girl it chased her down and dragged him along with it. So sad really. Such a sacrifice.

“It’s just sex, it’s not love!” he pleaded.

Was that supposed to make me feel better?

I was all doubted out. I gave no more benefits.
Even though he had begged, once again, for my forgiveness, I packed all of his shit into my car; drove it an hour to his apartment; and because I could hear him just having loveless sex from the street— I left everything on the sidewalk under his window.

And that my friends was the road back to sanity.

Teeny tiny postscript…

I had a temporary lapse about six months later. Hey, it happens!

Our chemistry was still intact, hotter than hot; I needed to get laid, and there may have been some Margaritas involved.

He swore he had never stopped loving me.
“What about the others?” I inquired. He knew what I wanted to hear, so he obliged. “Baaaabeeee” he cooed, kissing my neck, “I haven’t been with anyone in months, I’m concentrating on work.”

The lie caused his pants to go up in flames, but I never even noticed.

He had broken that unwritten rule, you know the one—he had stopped playing fair. Everyone knows neck kissing is the Universal signal for: You are one minute away from insanity… And away I went…

“Oh My God! He did it to me AGAIN!”
My screams reverberated throughout the entire house. “I truely AM insane!”

After I finally composed myself it was time to come clean (pun intended).

“We have crabs” I shamefully informed my roommates as I burned the bath towels, stripped all the beds and threw away my favorite pair of jeans.

Several days, many hours of creepy itchiness, and three bottles of anti-lice medicine later I had learned my lesson for good.

The Universe will up its game if you don’t get the message the first thirty-five times.

“The guys a louse” it said, biting its tongue, trying its best not to say: I told you so.

Point taken.

You can close your mouths now and Carry on,
xox