focus

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

A bass drum thrummed like a heartbeat behind the wall next door.

No big deal. There were only twenty of us, sitting on the other side, in lotus, attempting to meditate.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Is that Drake? I wondered for a hot sec.

I’ve participated in that Sunday morning, nine-thirty meditation for six months now and this was the first time the thump thump “music” had encroached. 

Huh. Interesting. 

That wasn’t the only thing that was different. 
Laurie, our usual teacher, and the ONLY one I’ll go to because she isn’t twenty-two, with a Valley Girl accent, spray tan, and a whopping year and a half of mediation under her Gucci belt—was absent. 

In other words—there was a sub.

I tried my best not to get all twitchy, but I’m not a fan of substitute anything.
I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter, Veggie burgers, Vegan cheese—just to name just a few.

I could feel the anger rise up inside me. My ears caught fire and I started clenching my jaw like I was arguing a case before the Supreme Court. “Your honor, YOU can’t handle the truth!”

In other words, I was losing my shit—in meditation class. Which translates, in every language known to man and some that aren’t, as an “epic fail”.

Every fiber of my being wanted to jump to my feet—flip a table—start a fire—spill hot coffee—and then race to my car.

Repressed rage, party of one?

‘There’s a reason Laurie’s not here,’ the calmer, less violent part of me reasoned as it gorilla glued my butt to the cushion. ‘Stay and figure it out 
Maybe this woman will be good. 
Maybe you’ll learn something. 
She’s just different, not BAD.’

Fine. You win. (But insert resting bitch face here.)

So I did. And she was, maybe not better, but really, really good.

Then, in the middle, just when I’d started to drool, the thump thump began.
Huh. Interesting. Drool. 
Seriously? Drool.
I’m so glad I’m in here and not in…drool.

When we came out of mediation, the first thing Kim, the sub, remarked on was the thump thump.

“Does this always happen?” she asked the class. Half shook their heads no, while the other half said yes, which wasn’t true, but that’s what happens when you ask a group of people to weigh in on anything. 

“Because I have a thing with ambient music,” Kim-The-Sub confessed, ratting herself out.
Oh, really? Over the years I’ve struggled with the frustration that comes from trying to meditate in a city like LA. Don’t get me started on leaf blowers!

Anyway, I could relate so I went full meerkat.

“Ever since a Buddhist retreat in 1999 (okay, how much do I LOVE that not only was she was alive in 1999—she was at a meditation retreat!) music seems determined to interrupt my meditation. From jinky Tibetan street music, to heavy metal, to the ice cream truck, it’s all out to get me!”

Makes sense, right? That explained why that strange thump, thump tried to interrupt our class for the first time in well, ever. 

Because just like the rest of us, Kim brings herself wherever she goes! She has her narrative—about annoying music— complete with traveling evidence!

Can I get an amen? Because, I mean, who doesn’t love proof of the obsurd fact that we bring our shit wherever we go?

I’m feeling warm fuzzies for Kim-The-Sub who may have just rocketed to the top of my list of favorite meditation teachers. 

I’m thinkin’ she’s a keeper.

Carry on,
xox

This is a post from waaaaay the hell back in the summer of 2013. Do you even remember the summer of 2013? Yeah, me either!

Anyhow…it felt timely due to the fact that we all have this fresh, new year to work with so I thought I’d share it with y’all.

If you were one of the oh, I don’t know, fifteen readers I had back then and you can’t be bothered with a flashback—go make yourself a sandwich!
And Carry on, xox

“If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with success unexpected in common hours.”~ Henry David Thoreau

You frequently hear the saying: Make your dream a reality.

But let’s flip it around, shall we?

You often hear someone who has accomplished something monumental say
“This feels like a dream”
or
“This is more than I could have ever dreamed of”.

That happens when the Universe takes a desire and runs with it!

When you put something out there and then you only feed it with feelings of accomplishment,
you feel assured that it will come to pass.

Like the athlete who after practice envisions crossing the finish line first, over and over and over again.

How about the actor who feels so prepared, so perfect for a part that he is relaxed and confident at the audition?

They know what they want and they stay out of their own way! Their reality then reinforces this by giving them feedback that they’re on the right track.

The athlete starts winning all his competitions,
The actor gets his parts.

This is where it gets interesting.
Even when things “seem” to go awry, we are being guided to our dreams.

The Universe now has taken the reins and is running the show.

When you can take these detours in stride and maintain your resolve by not getting discouraged;
not listen to the negative voices—both internal and external,
THAT is when…

The athlete gets the last place on the team to the Olympics and WINS  A MEDAL!
The actor gets not the lead, but a supporting role and then wins an Academy Award!

Their achievements surpass even their wildest dreams!

And THAT ladies and gentlemen is how you make your reality a dream.

FOCUS.

Whatever you put your attention on….grows. It starts to breathe. It Flourishes.

That was proven to me by its opposite.
It has always astounded me how fast something I turn my attention away from will wither and fade suffering a slow death due to neglect. Living things like plants and relationships are obvious examples, but what about inanimate objects?

We have a little shed in the backyard just outside our bedroom that in its early years was a workshop/store-all for my husband’s tools. Once he consolidated his immense collection of everything that grows hair on his chest, is toolish and fixyish elsewhere, he generously, as a surprise, turned the shed into an office for me with walls painted a gray/blue, a faux wood floor and an old-fashioned little door with a vintage crystal doorknob, painted in my favorite shade of Chinese red (for good luck).

At first, I was ecstatic! Then, for whatever reason; be it the fact that the commute is too arduous, or that I prefer to write in the patio living space outside, I’m ashamed to report that I seldom, if ever, set foot inside of that sweet little office. When I do venture in, the cobwebs hang like sheer gauze drapes from all four corners and as I flail around in the confusion I usually break up a very well attended poker game made up almost exclusively of spiders, where the various body parts of more unfortunate bugs are used as currency.

The walls have numerous cracks and the paint is peeling at an alarming rate.
Much faster than the rest of our house which has close to a decade’s head start. Seldom used light bulbs are blown, the floor is lifting in the corners and the dust is so thick it looks like the backroom of an antiquities museum where five mummies have slowly decomposed into piles of particles the consistency of powdered sugar.

Every piece of paper looks like an entire ocean of coffee washed over it, curling the corners and turning it the most delicious shade of yellowish/brown. A three-month-old invoice looks like it could give the Dead Sea Scrolls a run for their money.

Have you ever noticed that? What you neglect—decays—due to lack of interest.
It’s all energy.
I find that amazing.

Here’s something else that baffles me.
I save bugs. I just do. I pick them up by a leg or if they’re too squirmy or disgusting, with a Kleenex, and I take them outside. Most of the time I’m careful, making sure to aim for a soft surface like grass or a plant, but sometimes they won’t let go when I shake out the tissue—so I just shake harder until all bets are off. I’ve watched them bounce off a wall or the deck—even my leg.

That’s gotta hurt. Right? Or at least leave a mark. I mean, why isn’t that like me being dropped from a 5000 story building? Naked?
How is it they just get up, brush themselves off and without so much as a “by your leave” continue on with their bug’s life?

I’m sure it has to do with wearing the right hat, having an exoskeleton, or no skeleton at all, but I gotta tell ya…this inquiring mind wants to know.

That’s all.  No message really, just some things to think about on a Saturday.

Carry on,
xox

Okay. Now that I have your attention, what DOES sex have to do with manifestation?
Nothing and EVERYTHING.
Stay with me.
Here we go.
Think about something you want. Wait. Let’s use a sexier word. DESIRE. Something you desire.

Can you focus your attention on that thing for ten seconds straight? You’d be surprised how long that is AND I said straight, without interruption. That’s the thing with focus. It’s, it’s…elusive.
It gets away from you.

Unless it comes to sex.

MY sex to manifesting comparisons go something like this:

First you have to find something engaging. Something that gets your juices flowing—if you know what I mean.
Have you ever tried to have sex with someone you were not that into? Yeah, me neither.
Anyway…
Have you ever found yourself eyes wide open while they’re kissing you, searching their face or body for something appealing? You know, something to get you going?
When that didn’t work, did you find yourself racking your brain as to how it is that you have come to find yourself naked with this person?
Yeah, me too.

Here’s the thing. You’ll never manifest real happiness (or a happy ending), from something you have no passion for. You won’t have the stamina or the staying power.
You may as well play some gin rummy, or watch Game of Thrones. The end.

Then there’s the focus thing.

Focus is concentration on steroids and it is absolutely, positively necessary for the happy ending to occur.

Think I’m wrong?

Start messing around and then turn on cartoons.

Get right there, I mean right there, yes, yes! righhhhhttttt theeeerrrrreeeee!! and sneeze.

Get involved in some heavy foreplay and have your dog jump on the bed and lick your testicles.
Yeah, you know what I mean. When you lose your focus—things go…limp.
Game over.

The same thing happens when you’re thinking about that new job or project you’re excited about.
You can feel your pulse quicken when suddenly, out of left field comes your father’s voice telling you that it’s too risky, or you start to imagine all the reasons why your dream can’t possibly work.
Your focus is broken and your desire becomes…limp.

Stop. Drop. Go eat a sandwich instead.

So there you have it.
Passion, or at least excitement is required to be able to maintain an erection, focus.

Distraction kills focus and it’s easy to become distracted —except when it comes to sex.

The bottom line: It all boils down to sex. Sex and bacon.

Carry on, (That has suddenly taken on a whole new meaning)
xox

Ahhhhhh clarity…my elusive friend.

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 single time—I started over.

Carry on,
xox

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