energy

I’m just going to say it. The end of 2015 was a clusterfuck of mixed-up energies of epic proportions. Okay, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration, but you get what I mean. Besides, many of YOU were the ones that were calling it to my attention.

When I wrote about how conflicted I felt about how sad I felt in paradise, the genie was out of the bottle! SO many of you were sad too–for no apparent reason–which just makes it all the more confusing. At least if someone fell and broke a hip or your cat got run over–you know why you want to crawl under the bed.

We all like reasons for our emotions. I know I do.

Even my teenage niece just wasn’t feelin’ it in December and she was raised by elves in Santa’s Village, North Pole, USA. We count on her to buoy the rest of us with her unlimited teenage-girl holiday enthusiasm, decorating her room with white twinkle lights and making sure every square inch of my sister’s house looks like a reindeer barfed Christmas (and presents), everywhere.

Not this year. She was…melancholy. We’re just chalking it up to the weird energy and he fact that a certain amount of melancholy is synonymous with being sixteen.

Okay so everybody felt sad. I get that. But here’s where it got interesting.
Suddenly, the week after Christmas, I was overtaken by an overwhelming sense of…optimism.

Like 2016 was going to be the best year ever!

Again, I had nothing, whatsoever, besides my usual delusional thinking on which to base that upbeat prognosis.

When I spoke up at the New Years Eve party, expecting to get pummeled with dinner rolls, instead, everyone, get that? EVERYONE agreed!

2016 is going to be awesome. And we have no idea why.

A couple of people, Danielle La Porte being one of them, wrote about the numerology behind the year 2016.

2016 2+0+1+6 = 9 the year of answered prayers.
What? Are you kidding? Prayers? Answered? Well, no wonder we’re all collectively peeing our pants. Who doesn’t love answered prayers?! Don’t you fucking LOVE knowing that?

The Year of Answered Prayers.

That unclenches my jaw AND my butt. A real double-whammy.

I can hear you. You’re all asking yourselves right now: Hey, (our tribe starts everything with “hey”), hey, does Janet pray? Hell yeah! And meditate and chant and write shit down and ask nicely in my most polite voice. I cover all of my request-line bases.

So, the other night, In answer to prayer 4,567,389, is this really going to be such a great year? I had a dream where I watched as the night sky was carpeted with falling stars. There were thousands a minute. It was the meteor shower of all meteor showers and because it was so extraordinary I knew it was a dream. Still, I squealed and clapped with delight like I do when I watch fireworks. When I woke up I felt elated. (which was the polar opposite of sad and that made me worry for a sec that maybe I was losing my shit).

Of course I looked it up:
“To see a meteor in your dream suggests that you will experience success in a project. You are on your way toward realizing your goals and desires. Alternatively, the meteor refers to wishful thinking and idealistic thoughts.
To see a meteor shower in your dream signifies romantic thoughts and idealistic notions.”

…and answered prayers you guys. The year of answered prayers.

Breath in…breathe out…and carry on

xox

Okay. So, tens of you, my darling readers, have been living in suspense, asking me for days how I broke my green drink fast and if indeed I found some clarity as a result.

The rest of you didn’t care—Good for you!

Well, the answer is—bacon and sort of.

By Wednesday (the fourth day), I had so much energy there wasn’t a speck of dust left on any surface in my house, all the prep and chopping was finished, and I baked several pies in the afternoon. That was after I completed a triathlon and learned Mandarin.

Boundless energy. Apparently that is the side effect of every cell in your body silently screaming for carbs.

My friend Kim came by to witness my bought of plant-based beverage madness. And steal a pie. She can attest to my supernatural buzz and cheerful disposition.

Apparently that was side effect number two—I was delightful. Ask Kim. Ask my husband. Ask the girl at the gym and the guy walking his dog past my car, (who I thought I’d spoken to earlier that morning so I picked up the conversation where we left off only to find out it wasn’t the same guy OR the same dog, but I just smiled and kept on jabbering away like he was my long-lost BFF).

Gaunt and boney, (hardly), even dingier, (hard to imagine, but true), and delightful (oh absolutely).

Because I wasn’t hungry. Not at all.

So here is what you’re waiting for, oh patient reader; you want to know how I broke my fast.

“Go slow”, everybody advised. “Eat deliberately, take your time. Start with something bland and inert, like, like, a lemon. Suck on a lemon. Or better yet, sip hot water with lemon.”

Yeah, That’s so me. I’m someone who’s going to suck on a lemon after four days without solid food.

I could not disappoint. Not myself and certainly not you guys. You don’t come here to read about a spiritual guru who sits in perfection and quiet contemplation—fasting—then sipping warm lemon water while they advise you on all things holy.

Fuck that! You can read Deepak or Marianne Williamson (both whom I adore BTW) if you want to read the obvious. The expected. Perfection personified. THAT is everywhere!

Nope, I broke my four-day fast with bacon—on. the. grill.
Stop gasping, or laughing or applauding, I can’t hear myself think it’s so loud!

Here’s the thing, the kitchen was otherwise occupied Thanksgiving morning. My mad scientist/chef of a husband had the stove and oven firing on all cylinders—but I wanted bacon.
I needed bacon.

So I became inventive, industrious and clever as I utilized all the benefits of a four-day brain cleanse.

I cooked bacon—in a pan—ON THE GRILL! BAM!

Genius! And delicious. And satisfying as hell. It made me so happy I had a stupid grin and bacon grease on my face all day.

See, aren’t you happy it wasn’t freakin’ lemon water? I see you grinning, I can guarantee you—nobody grins all day from lemon water.

Besides, I’m not that girl and this isn’t that kind of blog.

Someone asked me the other night about the blog and I told them this, “I write the blog I always wanted to read: Sassy, messy, with stories of tragedy and triumph, tales of sorrow and success, with a dash of irreverence and a touch of cursing all wrapped in humor…and bacon.”

See that? Clarity.

Carry on,
xox

It’s Tuesday morning.
The start of day three of my sort-of-self-imposed green drink fast.

My stomach is growling so loud it woke up the dog.
It sounds like the insistent, angry growl of a lion eyeballing a Gladiator like a pork chop.

I would kill for a pork chop right now. A thick juicy slice of pig-on-a-plate.
Or bacon.
OMG. Don’t get me started on bacon. If I smelled the savory aroma of bacon cooking right now I would drown in my own saliva—I just know it.

Instead of a mass of bloated puffiness, after two days I am now all gaunt and boney.
Seriously.
Okay. Not really. But anyway.

“Feel that!” I urged my husband last night in bed, taking his hand and rubbing it down my right side.
He humored me with a couple of hand passes before rolling over.
“Those are my RIBS! I can count them. Do you know how long it has been since I could count my ribs? I am literally wasting away.”

I heard him snicker from his side of the bed now to be referred to as Outer Siberia.

On Sunday night, that same guy stood in the kitchen and finished off two pieces of cheese pizza and half bottle of wine while I stood feeding kale into the blender.

“It doesn’t count if you’re standing. Everybody knows that” he responded to my dirty looks. “But in solidarity I’ll eat power bars and protein shakes for the next three days.”

What a guy.
As of this morning, he’s lost seven pounds. SEVEN POUNDS! In TWO days!

I have never weighed myself. I go by how my clothes fit. Besides, for me this is about finding clarity, not weight loss.
Yeah, right.

But my gaunt and boney self wants to hurt him—just a little.
I can’t lie. I’m too hungry to lie. It takes too much energy to lie.

My dreams have changed. They have been colorful and epic in their scale and scope.
I dreamt of swimming and running and laughing and drums.
And so has my sleep.
When my eyes opened this morning, BAM! I was awake. Wide awake.
No sluggish slugginess, no urge to meditate or ask questions.
Just BAM! Up and Adam. Protein shake, here I come!

It’s now 9 a.m. and I’m going out to run all my errands. Too Da Loo!

It is now after three and I ran every errand with the speed and efficiency of a woman in labor on a scavenger hunt.
Then I came home and chopped up some shit, made my mom’s sweet potato soufflé and baked a pie.
I also garlanded a wreath within an inch of its life and planted some white poinsettias while the pie was in the oven. I even found my smile—it was hiding in the kitchen junk drawer.

Who am I? I don’t even recognize me.

So clarity…

It is clear I have waaaaay more energy That is for sure.
And I’m not hungry anymore.
And I may be taking this whole thing a tad too far. I accidentally licked some baked sweet potato off the spoon and promptly spit it into the sink. Crazy, right?

It’s a Decathlon people, not a sprint, and I must not cheat—tomorrow is the home stretch.

Okay, enough chit-chat, it’s time for tea.

Lots of love from your gaunt and boney, seriously delusional, green drinking, whirling dervish, pie bakin’ friend—me.

Carry on,

xox

Holy Crap! I was just having this conversation with some girlfriends this weekend. Nobody has any freakin’ energy! Is it the time change? The darker, colder days? WTF?  Then I read this essay by Liz Gilbert and every, single, word resonated! So, of course, I had to share it with you guys!

I have gotten more energy in my fifties for a lot of the reasons she talks about below, but I know I have more stupid shit to jettison! How about you?
xox

You’re going to love this: Take it away Liz!

THE SECRET TO HAVING MORE ENERGY!

Dear Ones –
My whole life, I’ve defined myself as a low-energy person. For years, I would have told you that I get run-down easily, and I’ve always needed about 10 hours of sleep a day to get by. (8 hours is minimum, but 10 is ideal.) I would have told you that I am susceptible to every cold and virus out there, and that, on a group trip, I will for sure be the first person to get sick. On a hike, I would be the first one to quit. I have always been somebody who falls asleep in movies, in class, on park benches. I’ve been known to go and visit people at their offices, and ask if they have a supply closet somewhere that I can take a nap.

But that’s all changed in the last few years. I’m 46 now and I have more energy than I’ve ever had in my life. I’ve finally discovered what is (for me, at least) the secret to having more energy. It’s not a supplement, not a beverage, not a diet, not a ground-breaking new exercise regime.
It’s much simpler than that.

Here’s what I’ve realized: If I want more energy, I don’t need to go out and find more energy from some outside source. I only need to stop wasting the energy that I already possess on stupid shit.

For most of my life, the reason I was so lethargic was because I was pouring my energy into various external emotional black holes. These black holes included: strings of bad romantic relationships, nasty breakups and desperate sexual encounters; co-dependent or toxic or otherwise exhausting friendships; the thankless work of trying to please people who cannot be pleased; the equally thankless work of trying to save people who don’t really want to be saved; the TOTALLY thankless work of trying to get somebody to love me who doesn’t want to love me; getting involved in other people’s business that is none of my business; trying to pretend I was somebody I am not; spending money on things I didn’t really want or need in order to soothe myself from my latest emotional horror show; taking on tasks (out guilt or duty) that I was never equipped for or good at; denying myself self-care out of a sense of low self-worth; wearing myself out by digging deep pits in which to bury my pathologies rather than healing them…
There were more black holes, but that’s a good starter list.

Any of it sound familiar?

All of those things take energy. Metric shit-tons of energy. So much energy that, of course, by the end of each day I had nothing left for myself. (In fact, I usually STARTED each day with nothing left for myself.)
So I walked around for years saying, “Man, I have such low energy! Maybe I should eat more flax seeds, or something?”

No.

It ain’t about the flax seeds. (Although flax seeds are very nice, don’t get me wrong. But it ain’t about the flax seeds.)
The truth is, as I have learned in recent years, I actually have TONS of energy. I’m a person who was born to be on fire with life. But the reason I was so exhausted until very recently, was because I spent most of my life leaking my energy out (pouring it out really) into all the wrong places.If you blew through energy like I blew through energy, you will be out of energy very quickly, too. For me to say, “Jeez, I just don’t have enough energy!” is like Mike Tyson saying, as he faces bankruptcy after blowing through his 400 million dollar fortune: “Jeez, I just didn’t earn enough money!”
No, Mike Tyson. You did not go bankrupt because you weren’t given enough money. You went bankrupt because you bought 10 mansions, 100 luxury cars, a golden bathtub, and THREE ALBINO TIGERS!
And no, Liz Gilbert, you were not tired because you didn’t have enough energy, or because you weren’t drinking enough water. You were tired because  YOU TRADED EVERY MOLECULE OF ENERGY YOU HAD FOR DRAMA AND TRAUMA.

Fucked up interpersonal relationships were my albino tigers, you guys. Toxic friendships were my golden bathtubs. Trying to please, change, seduce, or fix every single person I met were my 100 luxury cars. It all bled me dry.

The transformation for me came when I started asking myself “Where is my energy going?” instead of asking, “How can I get more energy?”

When I saw where my energy was going, and decided that I didn’t want it going there anymore — that’s when everything started to change. I realized that I had made my life too big, too crazy, too out-of-control. I couldn’t begin to feel the magnitude of my own energy until I learned to create boundaries. Or how to excuse myself from other’s people’s dramas. Or how to stop inventing dramas of my own, the way kids carelessly play with matches until eventually they burn something down. Or how to stop pretending to be happy when I’m not. Or how to accept the fact that the only person I can change is myself (and even then — BARELY!) Or how to get out of the “I will rescue you if you rescue me!” business. Or how to learn to stop saying “Yeah, sure!” when what I really meant to say was “Hell, no!” Or how to measure friendship not by how many “friends” I have, but how deep and true the love is with the tiny number of people whom I can actually trust with my life. Or how to learn to forgive myself and others, and shake it off, and move on.

I write this message to you this fine morning, having just come back from a five-mile run. My thirty-year-old self couldn’t have run five FEET, because she was so weary, so spent, so tired, so jacked-up and wiped out and bone dry and aching and depleted. But my day is just getting started, and I’m fire with all that is to be done. Gonna work on a new book today. Gonna check in with my peeps. Gonna get on my knees at some point and pray. Gonna cook a nice dinner tonight. Gonna laugh with my husband.

Suddenly there aren’t enough hours in the day for all that I want to be, all that I want to do, and for the tiny handful of people who I actually love with all my heart.

Life is smaller than it used to be for me, but so, so, SO much bigger.
So, of course…now I have to ask you: Where is your energy going? What is your albino tiger? What can you let go of, to gain access to the power that is already inside you?
ONWARD
LG

The way the energy’s been lately this felt good for a Sunday.
‘nuf said.

Carry on,
xox

Who out there is experiencing a high level of stress these days? Show of hands? Yeah, I thought so.

Well, you’re not alone. I had three—count ‘um—three Level-Five (Level Five being, there aren’t enough mantras, pharmaceuticals or fucks-to-give that can remedy this shitstorm)—stressful situations to handle before noon today.

That was AFTER I talked my husband down off the ledge.

So I feel you. I know what you’re going through, and I have one piece of advice. (Which I had to remind myself of every ten minutes).

Me: Mother of god, my mind is racing and it’s driving me nuts!

Better Part of Me: Stop and listen to it. That dialogue, diatribe, or sorry-ass monologue that the devil wrote and is repeating on an endless loop in your head right now? Ask yourself this:
Is it helping you—or hurting you?

Me: Shit. Thanks. I almost forgot.

Better Part of Me: Is it calling you names and telling you how much you fucked up?

Is it kicking you while you’re down?

Is it making shit up? Terrible; awful; life-or-death shit?

Is it making this problem seem like it’s the worst thing that’s happened in the history of the world; or since Donald Trump decided to run for President?

Then it’s NOT helping you and you need to tell it to “SHUT THE HELL UP!”

That voice is the voice of your childish, fear-filled mind. And it has NO IDEA what it’s talking about!

Would you take advice from a scared child? Yeah, I didn’t think so.

Take a walk.
Take a nap.
Take a drive.
Play some music.
Pet your cat.
Read a book.
Meditate.

Do anything you can to change the station. You will never find the solution inside the energy of the problem.

After a while the little brat will get tired; and then I’ll take out my earplugs and finally be able to get a word in edgewise.

That’s when the good ideas will come.

That’s when you find the missing piece to the puzzle.

That’s when you’ll be able to take a deep breath (I know this, and I still walked around blue, holding my breath for an hour).

That’s when you see the light.

That’s when you find forgiveness.

That is when you realize that you’re on a tiny blue planet, spinning in an insignificant part of the galaxy—and none of this shit really matters anyway.

Me: Whew! What a relief!

Carry on,
xox

*Perhaps the best thing I’ve read about the connection between the mind and the body. EVER.
Hands down!
I know Liz did the wise thing and cautioned everyone regarding this method—but I say DO IT!
DO TRY THIS AT HOME!
What have you got to lose?

I advise the people who ask me, to talk to their body. Make friends,with it. It doesn’t matter if it’s weight, a “bad” knee or cancer. Your body is NOT your enemy you guys, it’s your ally and it wants to partner with you to achieve balance and health so you can both lead the best life ever!
Carry on to health,
xox

“PERHAPS I AM STRONGER THAN I THINK” — Thomas Merton

Dear Friends-
I’ve spent the last eleven days hiking in the Italian Alps.

And that is a sentence that — 15 years ago — I would never have imagined myself ever writing.

I used to have a bad knee. It started during my divorce, when every part of me was falling apart — head to toe, inside and out. But my left knee was the worst of it. I twisted it one day, and it was never the same again. I couldn’t even walk up a flight of stairs without pain. At the time I went to see a doctor about it, who said simply, “Well, that’s why they call it getting older, and not getting younger.” (Thanks, doc.)

For years, I babied my knee. I identified myself as someone whose knees were “bad”, the way certain dogs and neighborhoods are called “bad”. If I took a yoga class, and the teacher asked if anyone had any physical limitations, I dutifully raised my hand and explained that I had a bad knee. I was given special movements, and told to be extra careful. Every new doctor was told about my bad knee. My friends knew about my bad knee. I iced it and heated it and put braces on it and took tons of ibuprofen and kept my range of motion limited because of it. I visited all kinds of professionals — traditional and alternative, alike.
But my knee never stopped hurting.
Until 5 years ago.

Now listen — before I go on here, please don’t do anything stupid to your body because of what I’m about to say, OK? I’m not a medical professional, and you must be a wise steward of your own lovely physical being.

But here is what happened to me.

One day — and it did happen suddenly, one day — about five years ago, I asked my knee what it wanted from me.
I literally spoke to it. I got very quiet, and very sleepy, and I said, “Tell me what you need from me, dear knee. I’m listening. I’ll do whatever you say. Surgery? A replacement? More gentle care? More acupuncture? A change of diet? Reiki? Just give me the word.”

Then I got very quiet, and my knee told me what it wanted. I heard the answer in the depths of my mind, as clear as day. It said, “GO FASTER.”

Go faster, said my knee. Go running. Go climbing. Go dancing. Use me. Jump up and down on me. I am a KNEE. There is absolutely nothing wrong with me. I am wondrously designed, said my knee. I am not a weak point, but a strong one. I am part of your body, and I want to be used. I am not a symbol of your divorce. I am not a sign of aging. I am not a problem. Don’t baby me. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life being treated like a Victorian invalid lady who has to take to her bed because of her fainting spells. I am not weak. Stop this. Please, please, please — said my “bad” knee to me — please stop using me as an expression of your weakness, fear, and emotional fragility. Please talk to your therapist about whatever troubles are ongoing in your mind, but don’t blame for everything. Please just trust me. Please just use me as I was designed. Use me as a freaking KNEE.

The next day — hand to God — I went running for three miles and I was fine. I’ve been fine ever since.
Again — PLEASE don’t go and do anything physically stupid to yourselves because of this story. I can barely explain it myself — how suddenly my “bad” knee was no longer bad. I have never been able to speak to a body part so clearly again, and I know it seems crazy that it happened at all.
But it happened.

There was pain (remember — that was my “divorce knee”) and then I was finally ready to put the pain away, and to stop using my knee as a pain-memorial.

All I know is this — that pain is a complicated and multi-layered force. Nobody experiences pain the same way, which is why it’s so difficult to treat. Some of our pain abides in the body, and some of it abides in the mind, and some of it abides in our histories. As pain moves through us, it passes through what scientists call “amplification centers” in our beings. Our emotions are amplification centers. our fear is an amplification center. Our imaginations are amplification centers. Our anger, too. All of these parts of ourselves amplify the pain in our mind, and sometimes commit to that pain fully — forever.

I had a friend once who injured her back during a hard time in her life, and it didn’t recover for years. One day, a doctor finally asked her, “What was the first thing you thought, when you felt your back go out?”
My friend said, “I thought, ‘This is going to hurt me for the rest of my life”.
The doctor, very kindly, said, “Maybe it’s time for you to stop thinking that.”
Her healing began there.

I believe that I did hurt my knee 15 years ago — but mildly, temporarily, and not in a way that it needed to cause me pain for a decade. I believe that my “bad” knee lived on inside my mind, not in my knee itself. When pain abides in the mind, it does not mean you are crazy, or that the pain is any less “real”. Trust me, my knee HURT. It just means that pain is living on within your body because — for some reason — it must. Because you are not done suffering. Because I was in heart-pain for ten years, and that pain needed a location. My poor knee took the pain for me. Until it didn’t want to any more.
Anyhow — what if you are stronger than you think?

I am all for people treating themselves with gentle loving care (and maybe part of my recovery from emotional pain was all about focusing on treating my knee like a poor, suffering baby — so that I could take care of myself with kindness at some level. Maybe that helped me to heal my heart.) But what if there are parts of your body that don’t want to be babied forever?

What if every single part of us longs to be USED?

What if our bodies long to be freed from the past, so that they can move as they were designed to move?

What if our hearts long to love?

What if our minds long to be creative?

What if our spirits just want everything to be forgiven?

What if your knee wants you to climb a mountain, to show you how powerful you actually are?

Wouldn’t that be crazy?

Wouldn’t that be freaking wild?

Wouldn’t that fill you with so much joy, you feel that your heart may burst from it?

ONWARD,
LG

http://www.elizabethgilbert.com

*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.

“Damn! Why does that keep happening?” I repeatedly yell at my Macbook, WordPress spellcheck, and most loudly at myself.

You’ve probably seen the ones that escape me. The number one spelling faux-pas that makes it into my blog post and drives me insane.

If I forget that first “t” in meditate the word becomes mediate.
Fuck!

And because it is a word in its own right it slips by all the checks and balances and even my highly discerning eagle eye.
When I finally do catch it (or *#@& Dominator calls it to my attention), I want to scream,(and often do) “No, no, not mediate—meditate!”

The other day while I was maneuvering deep behind the curtain of secrecy that operates my blog to change that reoccurring rogue word to the one I intended; I was struck by lightning.
Well, not really, I was wearing my rubber flip-flops and there wasn’t a storm cloud in site, but I’m speaking figuratively.

Figuratively I was struck in the forehead by a giant, white-hot, lightning bolt of AhHa!

Meditation and mediation are NOT separate words with different meanings; they mean the same thing!
Who knew?

MEDIATE

Verb: mediated, mediating.
1.
To settle (disputes, strikes, etc.) as an intermediary between parties; reconcile.

4.
To act between parties to effect an agreement, compromise,reconciliation, etc.

Holy shit you guys! That’s what mediation does for us—it mediates!

And just like any good mediator it settles the disputes between our endlessly fearful, misinformed mind-chatter, (This is crazy! It doesn’t feel safe! I’m going to get hurt! I’m never wrong! Lash out! Tell lies! Act like an idiot!), and the wiser, quieter voice in our head that has the good sense not to come to the table without a mediator (and a fancy hat).

It acts as the intermediary between me and me. Meditation helps to bring about peace of mind, (shhhhhhhhh, all is well) self reconciliation, (you did the best you knew how, let it go), and clears the way for the removal of any (and there are many), misunderstandings that stand in the way of our spiritual growth.

It can and does, convey many messages and gifts; ones that can only be realized through quieting the mind through meditation. (Ideas, insights, and forgiveness, to name a few).

It is the third-party that helps us to reach a compromise between what our ego wants to do (like strangle the check-out girl at Target), and what our higher self knows is the right thing to do (zip our lips, smile and say thank you).

So the next time you see mediate where I probably meant meditate—think again!

Meditate and then Carry on,
xox