energy

When you’re touched by magic, nothing’s ever quite the same again. What really makes me sad is all those people who never have the chance to know that touch. They’re too busy, or they just don’t hold with make-believe, so they shut the door without really knowing it was there to be opened in the first place.

~CHARLES DE LINT, What the Mouse Found and Other 

I don’t think it’s a secret to anyone that I believe in magic. 

That I have a facility for “holding the make-believe”.

That I live most days steeped in my overly vivid imagination. Now, that being said, it doesn’t mean I don’t like to test magic which I do with nauseating frequency. It’s called discernment, and if you are a friend of mine or you live with me—you frequently have to fasten your seatbelt because, when you goad magic? 

MAGIC SHOWS UP!

Case in point:

I’ve recently become obsessed with manifesting, which, if you think about it is just magic we’ve all agreed is real. 

You know, first, there’s the desire—then there’s the waiting period—and then, as if out of thin air—it shows up—Magic! 

Anyway, I’m interested in the in-between part. The waiting. The span of time where the money isn’t quite in the bank yet. The days, weeks or months between wanting a new lover—and seeing him lying naked and unashamed—in your bed. 

In my quest, I’ve been taunting magic to show me more of the process. “Show me the energy dynamics behind getting an idea—and making to real!” I yell into the void…

Often, on the free-range, off-leash hike with Ruby, we meet up with a woman I will call writer lady (because we only know the names of the dogs) and her dog Betty. Betty is a scruffy faced mutt who thinks she’s a show dog, finicky, ill-tempered and not at all interested in being seen with the likes of Ruby. 

Yesterday, when we walked with Betty and writer lady, Betty yapped incessantly and nipped at Ruby’s Achilles while writer lady wove a tale of terror about her experiences as an actor and writer in Hollywood. 

Gee, I’ve never heard that one…

Just at the point where I thought my ears might bleed, writer lady suddenly became exuberant, pointing to a knee-high, scraggly looking plant to our left.  

“Look, a sunflower!” she managed to fit in-between complaints. 

“Really?” I asked. “Are you sure?” I didn’t mean to be a Doubting Debbie but I’d never seen a sunflower on the hike before and I think I would have remembered because I’m unusually observant and I have a thing for wildflowers.  

“Yeah, I usually see one or two, a result of the birds you know.” 

Still unconvinced, I played along. 

“Will it live?” I asked, looking at the dry soil. 

“Oh, yeah! Sure!” she replied with a sense of optimism I wished she could transfer to an IV drip and infuse straight into her career. “It will get a lot taller and then, in about a month, it should bloom.” 

She was a horticulturist at heart—obviously.

“Huh.” was my profound response. 

Today as we were walking, I blocked out her depressing stories and went to my magic place. Literally.

I started thinking about the manifesting experiments I’d been doing while my hubby and I played cards on the weekends. Cards are easy for me since I literally give no fucks about winning. The object of the game, in a nutshell, is to collect three of a kind or a straight—and on Sunday I had two magical experiences that blew my mind!

I’ve always been told the key to manifesting is ”Keep it light.”

No striving. No begging. No bargaining. No kidding. 

Just ask for something with words like ”Wouldn’t it be great if I picked an Ace,” or “A three of clubs would be delicious right about now.”  You know, easy, peasy, Parcheesi. 

“Oh! Ruby’s pooping!” writer lady exclaimed with the same enthusiasm I reserve for animals shitting on the toilet. That pulled me out of my day dream and it also meant I had to carry a bag of dog shit for the rest of the hike, about 2.5 miles. 

I hate that. I make a point of carrying NOTHING of my own so that I can walk, free and unencumbered and then she poops and I’m Queen Elizabeth with the ever present blue plastic “purse” on a hike.

Ruby, feeling instantly free, unencumbered, and ten pounds lighter took off running toward the silhouette of a woman walking toward us, apparently without a dog. 

Ruby finds that suspect. She always has. 

People on hikes without dogs is an abomination as far as she’s concerned. Assuming they must be lost, she’s only too happy to find them by frantically searching in the bushes and under large rocks.   

“God, wouldn’t it be great if someone came along and collected our poop bags?”  I said to writer lady, not kidding at all.

Walking toward the dog-less woman who was grinning from ear to ear because she didn’t have to carry a bag of shit for two miles, I apologized for Ruby who was fixated on her fanny pack like a bomb-sniffing dog at the Tel Aviv airport.

Ruby’s law—any human wearing a fanny pack, with or without a canine—has treats.

“Hey, no problem,” she said, petting Ruby’s ears like a bona fide dog person, “Why don’t you give me that?” she motioned toward the bright blue plastic poo-poo bag.

“You…mean…this?” I stammered, trying my best not to shit my own pants.

“Sure“ she chirped, “I collect all the dropped and discarded ones and throw ‘em in the dumpster.” She held up a large garbage bag I hadn’t noticed until that moment.

“Huh,” I responded, after realizing I’d blown one of my three magic wishes on a bag of shit. 

Then I practically genuflected and kissed her ring with gratitude.

Our enthusiasm restored, Ruby and I took off on the rest of the hike while the Poop Saint, Betty, and writer lady decided to walk back to the dumpster together.

The minute they were out of sight I yelled at magic in my outside voice, “Oh, my Gawd you’re such a show-off!” 

Then I remembered Sunday, the cards, and the time slippage. 

“A ten would be splendid,” I’d asked, after noticing a pair of tens. Remember, I needed three of a kind.
My husband picked a card and discarded a Queen. I looked back at my own hand, suddenly, out of the seven cards there were now three tens!

How could that be? 

I picked a card and looked again. Now, only a pair of tens stared back at me. What the fuck?  But the card I picked was a ten! NOW I had three tens!

My heart was running a marathon in my chest but I didn’t say anything. I’d been messing around for weeks, asking for a certain cards, very specific cards, and the results had been nothing short of remarkable (you can ask my husband) but I’d never seen the cards change in my hand! 

It was probably a fluke, so I asked magic to show me again.

The next game, I asked for an ace of spades to complete a straight. “An ace of spades would be delicious,” I said to myself as I picked a card. It was a Jack, which I discarded, but when I looked back at my hand I saw the ace of spades right there with the two and the three! 

Wait, what?

Now, I know what y’all are thinking, “Janet, you have got to stop that day drinkin’!” But I can swear to you that I was stone cold sober. 

I touched the ace with my thumb to prove to myself it was real, nevertheless, when I picked a card and looked again—it was gone, back to some other card.  My face got hot and I started to sweat but I kept it on the down-lo, watching and waiting for what would happen next and you guessed it— the next card my husband put down was the ace of spades! That’s when I almost threw up.

It was like the universe was giving me a “preview of coming attractions”.  Hey, I’m the one who wanted to see what happened in the void and you know what? MAGIC SHOWED UP!

Today, toward the end of the hike, I thought about the sunflower. Was it really a sunflower? Had we passed it? A few minutes later the bright yellow petals caught my eye. There was the sunflower standing waist high and in full bloom! How could that have happened in a day? I screamed inside my head as Ruby danced around me, happy as a clam with her chewed-up tennis ball. This was the part where I just about shit all over my Lulu Lemon.

Just to prove it to myself I took the picture above. I can’t wait to go back tomorrow and see if it’s still there. 

Below are some quotes about Magic that I love. I’m starting to believe that the more we marinate in it— the more it shows up for us.

Stay tuned & Carry on,
xox

I would not want to live in a world without dragons, as I would not want to live in a world without magic, for that is a world without mystery, and that is a world without faith. ~R. A. SALVATORE, Streams of Silver

Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it. ~ROALD DAHL, The Missing Golden Ticket and Other Splendiferous Secrets

Scientists have calculated that the chances of something so patently absurd actually existing are millions to one. But magicians have calculated that million-to-one chances crop up nine times out of ten. ~TERRY PRATCHETT, Mort

The universe is full of magical things patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper. ~EDEN PHILLPOTTS, A Shadow Passes

A little magic can take you a long way. ~ROALD DAHL, James and the Giant Peach

Books are a uniquely portable magic. ~STEPHEN KING, On Writing

If you choose magic you will never be able to return to the life you once lived. Your world may be more … exciting … but it will also be more dangerous. Less reliable. And once you begin to walk the path of magic, you can never step off of it. ~NEIL GAIMAN, The Books of Magic: The Road to Nowhere

And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it. ~ROALD DAHL, The Minpins

I don’t want realism. I want magic! ~ TENNESSEE WILLIAMS, A Streetcar Named Desire

Friends,
Around this time of year, missing those who are dearly departed can be absolutely heart-wrenching. A while back I read this little story and even if it proves to be some sort of made-up myth, I don’t care!—it warmed my heart. It’s about things changing, about looking for our loved ones “where they are”, not where they used to be. As energy transformed. Energy that’s on an epic adventure.

You may not recognize them at first.

Maybe they’ll show up as the delicate snowflake that gently touches your cheek with the first snow. Or dog kisses.

They can even show up as the kind act of a stranger.

Rest assured they are everywhere, all you have to do is look for them where they are. Everywhere.
With so much love,
xox Janet

When he was 40, the renowned Bohemian novelist and short story writer FRANZ KAFKA (1883–1924), who never married and had no children, was strolling through Steglitz Park in Berlin, when he chanced upon a young girl crying her eyes out because she had lost her favorite doll. She and Kafka looked for the doll without success. Kafka told her to meet him there the next day and they would look again.

The next day, when they still had not found the doll, Kafka gave the girl a letter “written” by the doll that said, “Please do not cry. I have gone on a trip to see the world. I’m going to write to you about my adventures.”  

Thus began a story that continued to the end of Kafka’s life. 

When they would meet, Kafka read aloud his carefully composed letters of adventures and conversations about the beloved doll, which the girl found enchanting. Finally, Kafka read her a letter of the story that brought the doll back to Berlin, and he then gave her a doll he had purchased. “This does not look at all like my doll,” she said. Kafka handed her another letter that explained, “My trips, they have changed me.” The girl hugged the new doll and took it home with her.  

A year later, Kafka died.

Many years later, the now grown-up girl found a letter tucked into an unnoticed crevice in the doll. The tiny letter, signed by Kafka, said, “Everything you love is very likely to be lost, but in the end, love will return in a different way.”

I❤️this.

I think we can all agree at this point—this is an energetic universe and we are receiver/translators.
Our eyes translate waves of light into images.
Our ears translate sound waves into something we can recognize—and so on.

I always forget the part about ‘accumulating of the energy I’m focused on’—until I’m reminded in a not-so-subtle ways.

A few weeks ago, my husband, who’s the love child of Mad Max and Evil Knievel, an irresistible combination of dangerseeker and excellent rider wrapped in badasserry, broke his leg, and of course it had to be done in a spectacular fashion. No slipping in the shower or tripping on a step like a normal sixty-six year old man! He jumped off a moving motorcycle before it lost its shit and flipped over—on the freeway, another car basically forcing him off the road. 

Needless to say, he’s been a terrible patient, what with the cast, boot, scooter and all. Asking him to take it easy and put his foot up is like asking a fish to ride a bicycle. 

In the beginning although his foot (in an act of solidarity) was swollen the size of a watermelon and black as tar, the entire leg wasn’t that painful. It’s never really been about the LEG pain. It’s more about a critically bruised ego and the fact that he’s been rendered immobile.

So, this leg in a cast thing was sucking all the oxygen out of LA, California, and beyond. It’s been our overriding concern. Keeping it up and out of danger. Have you felt dizzy in Europe? Light headed in Africa? It could be a drop in the CO2. Just sayin’.

Anyway, last week while skipping gleefully down the hall, like I do, the toe next to my pinkie toe failed to jump the flagstone step into our bathroom, instead choosing to bend backwards toward my heal, breaking the tip, and cutting it’s own throat, just under the nail. While writhing in agony, I had time to ponder my fate. How in the hell had this happened? Toes usually follow the leader, the foot and all the other toes, when running and jumping, AND I can’t believe I’ve injured my LEFT FOOT too!

“WE have wonky left foot energy around here!” I whined to my husband who acted as sympathetically as a man in a boot and knee scooter can muster for a toe injury. 

I’m sure he rolled his eyes—but I knew it was true. 

The next day, my ginormous black toe and I were talking to a friend, when she told me about her reoccurring bladder infections. “It’s so weird,” she said, “they keep coming back.”
“Is it?” I asked, reminding her of the months she’s spent taking care of her mom who’s had a hell of a time recovering from bladder cancer surgery.

All of this to say, the universe will always remind you where your energy is focused, whether you want to know or not—which you do, before you lose a toe or end up in urgent care.

Carry on,
xox

Do you believe in energy?
I do.
Do you believe it can gather momentum?
You don’t? Oh, boy, I do!
What about those days when you wake up on the wrong side of the bed and before you can say crap sandwich​, you stub your toe, the cat pukes on every flat surface in your apartment, the zipper breaks on your favorite pair of pants and you get a parking ticket in front of Starbucks?

THAT is what I mean by momentum.

Thankfully, not all days are bad and neither is momentum.

Energy is an equal opportunity force that can kick up the volume on positive stuff too. Don’t shake your head like that! What about those mornings when your hair decides to obey all the laws of physics​ and arranges itself on your head in a not-so-shitty way, you find ten bucks in an old pair of jeans, and just when it seems like things can’t get any better—you get a primo parking spot at Trader Joes (which practically takes an act of Congress) in the ten minute window you left yourself to shop.

But I’m no different than anyone else. I forget about momentum. That would mean I have to pay attention to my energy and steer it in the direction that feels better. Fuck, that sounds exhausting!

It’s so much easier to play the victim.
Ouch.

The other day I got a front row seat to some wicked energy momentum and it was so blatantly apparent it stopped me in my tracks. You expect it to be stealthy, sneaky, but sometimes it is so in-your-face you have no choice but to pay attention and try and take control of the wheel before your day or week goes completely off the rails.

Case in point:
STANDING IN THE BATHROOM.

He: I saw on Facebook that my buddy’s business is sponsoring a race car.

Me: You were on Facebook? Are pigs flying?

He: Ha, ha, very funny. I know, I’m anti-social media. Anyway, they’re sponsoring a race car and I never heard anything about it.

Me: Why would you?

He: (aghast) Because! I’m the car and motorcycle guru. I’m their go-to guy for anything with an internal combustion engine.

Me: (Yawn) Right. Well, I wouldn’t worry about it. I’m sure it was just an oversight.

He: (unintelligible) Grumble, grumble, grumble.

LATER THAT NIGHT…

Me: What’s the matter?

He: Nothing.

REPEAT THAT INTERACTION AT LEAST TEN TIMES.

Me: Okay.

He: I went to see my buddies at their headquarters to ask them about the race car, and when I pulled up I saw my electrician’s truck in the parking lot, and lo and behold his guys were there doing a bunch of electrical work without my knowledge.

Me: Well…Did you ask…?

He: No.

Me: Why not?

He: Because…it was weird.

Me: I know, but I’m sure there was some kind of mistake. A new guy maybe?

He: How could there be? They all know I’m the one who arranges any work that’s done there.

Me: Hmmm…

He: And when I walked into their office they were talking to another pal of ours and they all stopped talking, like I was intruding. It felt weird.

Me: (Thinking ) Then did they all flip their hair, laugh diabolically, and walk off together to homeroom? (Said out loud) Maybe it was just your imagination? What could they be saying that they wouldn’t want you to hear?

He: I don’t know. Nothing. It was just so weird that my electricians were there…

Me: I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.

He: Right…

Me: What about the race car? Did you ask about that?

He: Oh, yeah, it just happened. They were really excited to tell me all about it.

Me: See. It was nothing.

He: Right…

Me: Somebody needs a hug.

He: Somebody needs a bottle of wine!

As he downed his first glassof wine like it was grape juice, I gingerly mentioned the fact that it looked suspiciously like his energy of they left me out of the loop from that morning had gotten a whole lot of momentum and was having its way with his emotions.

I could instantly remember doing the same thing a million times. Can’t you? It hurts. And as obvious as it is that the crappy reality we’re creating in our minds can be changed if we just take the time to see it—sadly, we are always the last to know.

“Think about it,” I said. “Out of the loop is the one thing that all of those situations have in common.” He yeah butted me for a while until he could see it too.

“I’m sure when you talk to your guys tomorrow there will be a perfectly simple explanation that will have nothing to do with being left out.

And as it turns out that’s exactly what happened.
His electrician called him first thing in the morning to ask about the billing (proving that he wasn’t going behind his back) and later that day he found out there was a new guy at the company who wasn’t read-in on the maintenance-chain-of-command.

Nothing was nefarious or personal.
It was all just a bunch of misunderstandings that were feeding on his energy.

Do you believe in energy?
I do.
Do you believe in momentum?
I most certainly do. I’ve seen it in action!

Carry on,
xox

​

Hello Tribe,
Sometimes I like to poke around in the archives to see if there’s anything in there worth re-posting. This showed up today when I put the word “December” in the search window.

I was intrigued to see it again since it had neither December in the title nor was it posted in December. Naturally, when that happens, when something with the title Soft Landing shows up unsolicited, I’m curious af!

This was back when I was writing the first thing in the morning. It was a kind of stream of consciousness thing.

Well, low and behold, it seems just as relevant today as it did back in August of 2013—maybe even more so with the full super-moon in Gemini, the state of the world, and the feeling that many of us have had for the last, oh, I don’t know…YEAR—that the sky is falling.

This has such a hopeful tone, doesn’t it? And landing softly sounds good to me right now, how ’bout you?

I believe that the right things, info, or signs will show up when you need them the most. I needed this. 

Carry on,

xox

Today is the day of landing into the energy
that started to come in December 2012.
So we suggest you set the intention for a
soft landing.

By that we mean,
get quiet and give this some thought.
These were big influxes of energy,
like waves, and many of you were knocked off your feet,
and have been swimming as hard as you can,
just trying to keep your head above water.

Well, to stay with the wave analogy,
after today’s wave,
the tide is settling,
it is still deep and active,
with a big full moon,
but it has churned up your life enou.gh,
and now starts to recede.

And with conscious intention,
you can swim with very little effort
back to shore,
or let the wave carry you back,
and deposit you.

Intend your soft landing.
Take into account all the changes that have
happened in your life in the last 8 months.
Bless them, for they are like the influx of fresh water
that flushes out a stagnant pool.

All that matters now, today,
is that you give careful deliberation
in the energy of all this change,
of where you want to land.

We would suggest you hit the ground running!
A little banged up, but none the worse for wear,
wiser,
full of new ideas,
calmer,
grabbing the hands of the others coming to shore.
Ready for this next adventure,
because it can truly be whatever you
dream it to be!

Hello my tribe,
Well now.
I wish I had all the answers. I wish I knew what to say to lift all of our heavy hearts.
All I can do is share what I believe and how that’s helping ME make sense of all of this madness.

I believe in energy. That everything is energy. Love, hate, optimism, fear.
It’s all energy and that energy has power.
And after a while, if you focus on one thing long enough it gains momentum.
We just saw the proof of that with this election. Lots and lots of folks whose fear and anger morphed into a blind rage. I say blind because everyone wants to be heard, right? We all want to think our needs are being served. So, in their own self-interest they blindly (and deafly (is that a word?)), followed someone who said, “I hear you.”

I believe he took the momentum of their fear used it against them.

That being said, I’ve alway remembered what someone wise once told me “Don’t be against something Janet, be FOR something else. Don’t be anti-war, be pro-peace.”
They explained how, from an energetic standpoint (yes, we’re still talking energy), it’s cleaner. It’s clearer.

Because, when you rail against something by yelling and waving your fist at it—you give that very thing MOMENTUM. That’s what causes rioting and violence in the name of peaceful resistance.

Besides, if and when the shit does hit the fan, if my hair is on fire, I can’t be a part of any solution. I believe fear is disempowering. Because I know fear won’t lead me anywhere near the solution.

Plus, it feels like shit to hate. Doesn’t it you guys? The pettiness? The cattiness?
It feels like shit to think that fifty percent of the country is nuts. It feels like shit to be so freaking far away from love. Because you and I, we’re all lovers.
We’re the unifiers.
We like to think we’re spiritual, evolved, and open-hearted.

But look how conditional that has become.
It’s turned into “us” and “them.” And we’re behaving no better than “they” are!
“Think like me and I can love you/be your friend. Look like me, talk like me and vote like I do and only then can I love you.”

Yikes.

Don’t get me wrong. We must be vigilant. We must march our asses off, write letters, organize, protect, defend and sign petitions. And vote. For. Sure. We MUST Vote.

I’m just asking that you check-in with yourself. You’re intentions and the energy you’re giving momentum to.

It’s abundantly clear what you’re against, but what are you FOR?

I believe in civil discourse.
I believe it’s a small world and that we’re all connected.
I believe in using our voices.
I believe that the majority of the American people are decent, loving people.
I believe change can be a good thing.
I believe that our country needed a wake-up call. Many of us had NO idea how many “-isms” were alive and well and living under the rug.

I believe in us and that love wins. I really do.

Carry on,
xox

So…I’m back on the killer hill. Hiking. Or otherwise known as putting my life in jeopardy (maybe a touch melodramatic), to walk on dirt, uphill—in black stretch pants—with the camel toe to end all camel toes—at 8 am—for no good reason.

I’m still fucking around with my little WiFi experiment, but interestingly enough, the signal has been uncooperative since those two miraculous days last week when all the stars aligned to give me my NPR.

But I’m still at it. My middle name is tenacious. Janet Tenacious Bertolus.

There may have been some begging even though I know that begging is the surest way to silence.

Through the years, I’ve been told by pretty reliable sources that The Universe doesn’t keep score, or prioritize, and I know for a fact that The Universe can’t be bothered with begging.

Asking? Sure.

Prayers? Absolutely!

Begging? Not so much.

Especially begging for something as ridiculous as WiFi to distract from the excruciating “discomfort” I put myself through trudging up that freakin’ hill every morning.

It sticks its fingers into its ears and LA, LA, La’s until I stop.

Anyway…no begging this morning, just resigned acceptance when the signal cuts out.
Shitfuck.
Then I laughed because it’s starting to get funny.
Not really.

Have I mentioned what an opportunist the Universe can be? Oh, yeah.
Just at the point where I am at my most vulnerable; hands on my hips, bent into the hill, drenched in sweat and gasping for air like a sherpa about to summit Everest; the WiFi kicks in and Abraham on YouTube comes back on.

The Universe decides that this is the perfect time for a teaching moment.

I am elated.
This will help me summit my own humiliating, Studio City version of Everest. Except for one thing. I’ve already listened to this part. It didn’t pick up where it left off, it went all the way back to the beginning. Back to what I’ve already heard for the last forty minutes.
Shitfuck.

A not-so-mild wave of disappointment washes over me as the smile leaves my face.

Immediately the signal cuts out. Silence returns.

Awwww, come on! I actually shout out loud. What the hell?!

I stop and fiddle with my phone for a minute. Nope. Nothing. It’s no use. Resignation sets back in as I pull up my big girl stretch pants and soldier on.

It’s then that the Universe decides to give a lecture series entitled: Split Energy (Will Fuck You Every Time).

“You split your energy. You do it all the time and you needed to see an example of how it can stop the momentum of a desire faster than a concrete wall stops a speeding bullet.”

Nice visual.

“Thank you.”

But I need you to clarify, please. I barely have enough oxygen to keep me upright let alone fire the synapses’ in my brain that are needed for me to understand what the hell you’re trying to tell me.

“You desired WiFi. We gave you WiFi. And may we point out, in a place where WiFi doesn’t exist, so there’s that…”

I know! And I was so happy about that!

“For a minute. Not even. Then you were disappointed by the specifics. That’s split energy and it will stall a desire faster than anything else.”

So what should I have done?

“Really? You can’t stay grateful for a miracle for like, five minutes?…What do we always say?”

I don’t know…be kind to others and don’t say fuck so much?

“Besides that. We remind you that disappointment is taking score too soon. When you ask for something and it arrives don’t say, Oh, not THAT! it seems ungrateful and a tad rude. Wait awhile before you take score.”

I suppose you’re right.

“We’re always right! We’re the Universe! Whatever we deliver to you is ALWAYS perfect.”

Always?

“Always.”

What if…

“Always.”

What about that…

“Always.”

But…

“What part of ALWAYS are you not understanding?”

Point taken.
I’m at the parking lot and I have to pee so arrivederci and thanks for the chat.

Listen you guys, who among us hasn’t questioned a wish fulfilled because it didn’t look exactly like we expected it to look?
We’ve gotta cut that shit out. I’ll go first!

Carry on,
xox

A few months back I was wondering why things felt like a ton of effort. Mis-communication was rampant. Things were sticky and sucky all at the same time. Since my wise dead friend pretty much knows what I’m thinking about all the time, she offered this nugget one day, “Don’t answer an unasked question” she said, “It never goes well.”

Well duh, I thought to myself. Who does that anyway?

At first, what she meant was lost on me, too opaque, it’s true meaning hidden among the words.

After I thought about it for a minute—or fifteen—I began to get the gist.

Who answers questions no one has asked? Uh, Me! Turns out I do it all the time! And as I shared this little saying with a few of my friends it seems that they do too!

We’re all familiar with unsolicited advice. You can find it here, from me, every day. Ha!

But the truth of it is, if you’re here, chances are you wanna know what I have to say. Unlike my husband. The poor guy, he’s just venting and I’m bent on solving all of his problems in the kitchen every night while we make dinner. It starts with “Here’s what you need to do” and ends with “I know, I’m sorry, I should just keep my mouth shut”.

Every freakin’ night. The man’s a saint.
But seriously!

What about when you meet a friend for coffee and the first thing they say to you is, “You look tired” (translation: you look like shit warmed over). Aren’t you tempted to reply “No one asked you”?
I am. But I never say it. Too jackassy.
But seriously!

Just to clarify, here is what she meant.

Don’t talk to people about their kids—unless they ask you and even then it’s dicey. NEVER, EVER do it if you are childless. It could be hazardous to your health.

Don’t go on and on about your fabulous vacation, love life, doggie day care, kitchen remodel, new handbag or stories about your boss if you haven’t been specifically asked. There’s no faster way to clear a room.

The same holds true about voicing your feelings about politics, religion, race relations, the Olympics, mental illness, ADHD, OCD, or any other acronym that ends with a D.

Wait to be asked.

Don’t offer the steamy details of past romances with your current mate. Even if they ask. Change the subject.

Giving other writers feedback on things they’ve written? Oh, hell no! Don’t do it unless you’re asked.

Along those lines, don’t send out unsolicited manuscripts—they get thrown in the trash or people feel obligated to give you their “feedback” which are often not-so-thinly-veiled insults.

The same goes for flash drives filled with songs you wrote or pictures you took. Wait to be asked or suffer the consequences.

Recently, a friend making conversation told her sister, whom I had just met, about my screenplay. “You need to read it”, she enthused. “You’d love it!” I cringed. “Uh, sure”, her sister replied uncomfortably. “Here, let me give you her email”, my friend continued. I could tell her sister would rather have dental surgery. It was beyond awkward. I wanted to die.

There is a larger force at work here and it is what my deceased friend was referring to. It’s Energy. It’s so much better if you stop and read a room, the collective asking so to speak. It’s easy to tell what they’re asking for but you have to take a minute, be quiet and tune in.

That’s also true for the world at large. Even though nobody was specifically asking for a movie about large highly evolved blue aliens on a distant world endangered by humans, James Cameron hit the collective nerve/jackpot with Avatar.

He answered a question buried so deep we didn’t even know we were asking. He tuned in.

That’s turning out to be the answer to everything in life these days!

Carry on,
xox

So…I’m back on the killer hill. Hiking. Or otherwise known as taking my life in my hands to walk on dirt, uphill, in black stretch pants at 8 am for no good reason.

I’m still fucking around with my little WiFi experiment, but interestingly enough, the signal has been uncooperative since those two miraculous days last week when all the stars aligned to give me my NPR.

But I’m still at it. My middle name is tenacious. Janet Tenacious Bertolus.

There may have been some begging even though I know that begging is the surest way to silence.

Through the years, I’ve been told by pretty reliable sources that The Universe doesn’t keep score, or prioritize, and I know for a fact that The Universe can’t be bothered with begging.

Asking? Sure. Prayers? Absolutely! Begging? Not so much.

Especially begging for something as ridiculous as WiFi to distract from the excruciating “discomfort” I put myself through trudging up that freakin’ hill every morning.
It sticks its fingers into its ears and LA, LA, La’s until I stop.

Anyway…no begging this morning, just resigned acceptance when the signal cuts out.
Shit.
Then I laughed because it’s getting funny.
Not.

Have I mentioned what an opportunist the Universe can be? Oh, yeah.
Just at the point where I am my most vulnerable; hands on my hips, bent into the hill, drenched in sweat and gasping for air like a sherpa about to summit Everest; the WiFi kicks in and Abraham on YouTube comes back on.

The Universe decides that this is the perfect time for a teaching moment.

I am elated.
This will help me summit my own humiliating, Studio City version of Everest. Except for one thing. I’ve already listened to this part. It didn’t pick up where it left off, it went all the way back to the beginning. Back to what I’ve already heard for the last forty minutes.
Shit.
A mild wave of disappointment washes over me as the smile leaves my face.

Immediately the signal cuts out. Silence returns.

Awwww come on! I actually shout out loud. What the hell?!

I stop and fiddle with my phone for a minute. Nope. Nothing. It’s no use. Resignation sets back in as I pull up my big girl stretch pants and soldier on.

It’s then that the Universe decides to give a lecture series entitled: Split Energy (Will Fuck You Every Time).

‘You split your energy. You do it all the time and you needed to see an example of how it can stop the momentum of a desire in it’s tracks.’

Clarify please, I barely have enough oxygen to keep me upright let alone understand what the hell you’re trying to tell me.

‘You desired WiFi. We gave you WiFi. And may we point out, in a place where WiFi doesn’t exist, so there’s that…’

I know! And I was so happy about that!

‘For a minute. Not even. Then you were disappointed by the specifics. That’s split energy and it will stall a desire faster than anything else.’

‘So what should I have done?’

‘You can’t stay grateful for a miracle for like five minutes?…What do we always say?’

‘I don’t know…be kind to others and don’t say fuck so much?’

‘Besides that. We remind you that disappointment is taking score too soon. When you ask for something and it arrives, don’t say, Oh, not THAT! it seems ungrateful and it hurts our feelings. Wait awhile before you take score.’

‘I suppose you’re right.’

‘Of course, we are! We’re the Universe! Whatever we deliver to you is ALWAYS perfect.’

Always?
Always.
What if…
Always.
What about that…
Always.
But…
What part of ALWAYS are you not understanding?

Point taken.

‘I’m at the parking lot and I have to pee so arrivederci and thanks for the chat.’

Listen you guys, who among us hasn’t questioned a wish fulfilled because it didn’t look exactly like we expected it to look?
We’ve gotta cut that out. Me included.

Carry on,
xox

I’m visiting friends in Santa Cruz this week while my hubby races cars.

I know. Don’t cry for him Argentina. (Or as my friend’s seven-year-old daughter used to sing at the top of her lungs, “Don’t cry for me Art and Tina!” So, Art, Tina, don’t cry for him. He’s got a great life.)

And calling all potential burglars, you can help yourself to the leftovers in the fridge because besides those, there is nothing of any interest or great value left in the house.

All that being said, it was extremely windy here last night.
Like, up-end trees and decapitate wind chimes windy, which unnerved the boxer-shark. She doesn’t care much for any of the chaos brought on by this fast-moving air thing.

Occasionally it sounded like a freight train and at one point a door slammed loudly nearby, causing us both to jump out of our fur. Being that she was completely incapable of relaxing into it, every gust woke us up. I was an idiot for trying to sleep while wearing a dog as a hat because as everybody knows— misery loves company and dogs over fifty pounds, even on their best day, make terrible fashion accessories and bed companions.

Being that I was wide awake, I got to thinking…I am cursed with the four-legged version of the neurotic child I never had AND fast-moving air is similar to fast-moving water. It is loud and rambunctious and once maximum momentum has been achieved it can carry things away. Like leaves, hats, picnic table umbrellas — and at one point in my life, all of my hopes and dreams.

But when you harness their power — it can literally move mountains.

And just like the dog, we can get triggered by the messiness, the unpredictability, the volume, and the speed of fast-moving things, making us twitchy and scared—with a bad case of helicopter hair.
We tend to want them to slow down or stop altogether. Which if you think about it is like paddling upstream. Instead of using that forward momentum…we make everything, even sleeping, an upstream battle.

We become salmon. Except salmon have tiny little brains that have been taken over by their instinctive urge to spawn. And spawning wins. It just does. (Just so you know, there are no urges or spawning happening here in Santa Cruz. At least none on my part. You’ll have to ask Ruby if that holds true for her.)

In the past, I’ve done it repeatedly in relationships, spawning swimming upstream because I was feeling as if things were “moving too fast”.

Certain projects have acquired so much momentum that my instincts advise me to put the kibosh on them, to drag my feet so I can catch my breath.

It’s an energy thing. I start off in the direction of something I want really, really badly, and then I can get overwhelmed by the speedy trajectory. The fast-moving air thing. The torrent of water.
Metaphorically speaking of course.

Does that ever happen to you?

Recently, I’ve been getting into the habit of going with the flow and I’ve gotta tell you, it makes life so much easier than swimming upstream.
I can see how useless it is to fight momentum, it’s as moronic as the dog wishing the wind would stop.
And besides, my arms were getting tired.

Carry on,
xox