guidance

This made me laugh! Happy Sunday!
XoxJanet

ELEGANT
el·e·gant
ˈeləgənt/
adjective: elegant
1.pleasingly graceful and stylish in appearance or manner.
“she will look elegant in black” (a reason why I always wear black, ha!)
synonyms: stylish, graceful, tasteful, sophisticated, classic, chic, smart.
antonyms: messy, unwieldy (hot mess)!

Oh yeah, I’ve talked about this. I cautioned you in the previous post.
We can aspire to it, aim for it, even pray for it, but enlightenment, spiritual awakening, whatever you want to name it, is rarely elegant.

And by rarely…I mean never.

There is a mine field of inelegance that surrounds becoming conscious.
You can side step the big stuff, like disaster and dis-ease, but you’ll still get your shoes dirty.
It’s kinda the name of the game.
If it was pretty; clean and easy, everyone would do it.

Take meditation for instance.
I can’t tell you how many friends have said this to me: When I started meditation, all hell broke loose.
It starts out all zen and blissful, with the breath and the inner peace. You will have that in your back pocket for life; but ask anyone who’s seriously meditated for a while.
Shit can hit the fan!
If you meditate every day, you literally change your brain…and your body.
You put the monkey mind in its place, and make your connection with source.

But source likes a clean link. It doesn’t like an old plugged up infrastructure, so it cleans and clears things out. When that happens, all your bad habits, your sabotaging self talk, your anger, hate, rage, lack of forgiveness, selfishness, greed, and jealousy, to name a few, are chased out of the shadows and into the light.

Get the fan.

This will set you free, but these guys won’t be graceful, chic or elegant.
They will give you the middle finger on their way out.
Meditation shook their cage, and they’re pissed.

Yoga is right up there too. A great practice, amazing for the mind and body, but it’s not just exercise, there is a spiritual aspect to Yoga that you can’t get around.
Yoga in Sanskrit means “the Divine Union”. Using the physical postures to bring the mind under control and join with the Higher Self or Source.

Uh oh.
Get the fan.

A regular Yoga practice will unleash all the usual suspects.
Anger will be released from your hip joints, sadness from your shoulders.
There will be heart openings, epic realizations, even tears.
It will free YOU as well…it just won’t be elegant.

Choosing the path less traveled.
Operating outside your comfort zone.
Mindful living.
Being of Service.
All call for making the tough choices, lots of “no’s” = Fast track to a more enlightened life.
Elegance…not so much.

Enlightenment is the loftier, more desirable pursuit of the two, but it has been my experience that you can’t have both.
Choose wisely.

XoxJanet

“Someday you are going to realize there is a tremendous difference in knowing the path, and walking the path”
Morpheus to Neo ~The Matrix

I hate to do this, but if you want to be caught up, you’re going to have to go back and read Parts I-III.
I’ll wait.

Ok, so now you have some of the back story.

This installment starts in late November 1993 and I’m going for my second session of “energy work” with that little Tasmanian devil, T.
I’ve wised up enough to realize this work has absolutely nothing to do with alleviating tension and sore muscles.
It is a “soul massage”. It is releasing very old and “stuck” cellular memory, in order to give my soul a cleaner slate. I didn’t have a full grasp of why that was a good idea, but like most things that were happening to me at that time, I was just “goin’ with the flow”.

T incorporated acupuncture needles this time. TONS of them. I had them all over my body. My face was covered, down my spine and the bottoms of my feet, which freaked me out. What if there was an Earthquake and I had to make a run for it?
When he was working on my spine, I started to feel very anxious, like an anxiety attack—so I told him to stop. With one wave of his hand, I felt better.

Shit, Where was this guy when I was getting my divorce?

After my previous session, which was my first, I became quite ill.
This time, I lost my mind.
Well, just a little at first, but I’m someone who REALLY likes feeling normal, and as I left normal far behind me in the rearview mirror, I shut down.
But first I got weird and kinda desperate.
I had read that putting pennies (copper) in your shoes could help ground a person, so imagine if you will, me at work with pennies taped inside my Jimmy Choo’s and Manolo Blahnik’s.  It didn’t help. I was out of clever options. Could a tin-foil hat be far behind?

Work…yeah, that was interesting. Thank God I ran the place, so I was there alone 90% of the time. I literally would be “out” of my body all day, every day. To the point that I would forget how to answer a telephone. Not what to say… I didn’t know how it worked! It would ring, and I’d stare at it, like someone from the dark ages seeing modern technology for the first time. Same thing with the fax. I also had trouble reading English.

While I was “out” I was freezing cold, but each day for I’d say a half-hour total, I’d pop back “in” for a visit. I could feel it start at the base of my spine with a warmth that would radiate to the top of my head. Once it got there, Me, the 20th century Janet, would be back!
That’s when I made sure I would listen and return the phone messages, and read whatever needed my attention. Oddly enough I have no memory of a single customer interaction. I know that can’t be true, this madness lasted for over three months, but apparently, I was able to fake sanity convincingly.

I was so afraid of getting fired or driving a car when I was “out” but my team, yes, I had a little team around me now, with T acting as the leader, and he assured me that the state I was in (Samadhi) was so sacred, that no harm would befall me.
Sacred Shmakred. But it never did.

When I wasn’t an emotionless zombie, I was suffering epic, massive anxiety. Fear was my constant companion.
I know, hot mess…enlightenment isn’t elegant. (More on that later)

I had one foot in this world, and another foot…somewhere else. Somewhere far, far, away, where I was assured I was needed.
My opinion was, hey, I have this perfectly good body right here, right now, I want to be present! So I fought the process. Tooth and nail. No flow going for me! I struggled every second of every day, and THAT was causing all my suffering.

You don’t fight Samadhi, you embrace it, or so I was told.

Nights were hard. I lived alone, for which I was partially grateful. On one hand, I didn’t have to make excuses for my behavior, but I felt extremely isolated.

God, nights are sinister.
I’d never really noticed that before. They are excruciatingly looooong and so damn black, so damn all the time in the winter!

T did his energy work on me, sometimes several times a day if I was particularly uncomfortable.
With him came that same bone dry bedside manner.
I remember, one day, laying on the bed, saying all I could see was black, and screaming that I couldn’t breathe.
Me:(gasping dramatically) I’m gonna die!
T: (calmly, almost bored, while thumbing through a People magazine) You are in Bardo, every cell in your body can breathe, not just your lungs, ask your whole body to breathe for you. How about if you quit fighting it? Surrender.
Me: I’m dying!
T: Then die.

Looking back I realize his calm nonchalance saved me. I can’t imagine how scared I would have been if he had been freaking out also. I’m convinced that that’s the best way to be in these situations. Calm and reassuring, not at all emotionally invested.

If I had smelled ANY fear on his part, I would have lost it…more than I already had.

The team was concerned that if I didn’t lighten up and “throw up my hands like I’m on a roller coaster” that the energy would fry my circuits. Everyone agreed, fighting it was not serving me.

“This is your new normal,” they’d insist.  “There’s no going back, you can’t un-know something, once you know it”

Shut up! And what does that even mean??

I swear, some of the people that look homeless and crazy on the streets, I’m convinced have never learned to ride the roller coaster. I feel for them, I really do.
I bet they have pennies in their shoes.

My friend at work, Sally, was the only person I confided in. She didn’t judge, even though it looked to her like her friend had flipped her lid.
When I felt particularly bad, I’d walk by her booth and we’d make eye contact.
Then we’d both throw our arms in the air and go “weeeee” and I’d feel a little more human and understood. She rode the coaster with me.

I’m making it sound like it was all hell.
It was mostly hell, but Samadhi brings with it some interesting party favors.
I think that happens to keep you engaged because every fiber of my being was checked out.
I did have some mystical, magical, miracles happen during that time.
Those will be next.

(To be continued)
XoxJanet

Here is my disclaimer right up front: This is a story about a very shallow girl…me, and how a list, a good friend, and some abracadabra, helped me manifest my true love.

At the point where my story begins, it’s the year 1999 and I have known Wes for about five years. We first met at the channeling group of a mutual friend.

Let me stop right here.
Wes is drop-dead gorgeous! He is a 6’3″ tall, dark, handsome, drink of water. When I first saw him at this friend’s house, I thought to myself: Okay, Spiritual practice, now you’re talkin’, because, up until that moment it had mostly been women that showed up for these things or men who still lived with their mothers.

He and I made goo-goo eyes at each other and tried not to burst out laughing at some of the questions that were asked. I know – Not my proudest moment.

We thought EVERYTHING was hilarious.
Wes is very chill about all this spiritual stuff. He doesn’t take any of it too seriously, which I love, and we had a lot in common. We had read all the same books, had a very similar spiritual practice, had the same twisted, warped sense of humor…and both loved men.

Sad, but true.
So, I was the Grace to his Will.
We loved each other madly, with no extra benefits.

After the crash and burn of yet another one of my romantic relationships, instead of saying, “I told you so” Wes suggested going to our channel friend for a session with just the two of us. He was also newly single at the time and felt we could get some good one-on-one advice, without other people asking if their dead Aunt was speaking to them through their cat.

At this session “they” suggested we each make a list of the attributes our beloved should possess, after which we should meet and give that list to the other, for them to use as kind of “manifestation template.”

Before I go on, I want to add this little side note:
I thought it would be a good idea at the time to take all of my ex’s cards, pictures, etc. and burn them. I would then scatter the ashes to the wind, giving the Universe a smoke signal that there was now a boyfriend void to fill.

With my right shoulder cradling the phone, I took Wes outside with me, along with my box of memories and a lighter. It was about 8 p.m., cold and dark and lightly drizzling, which I thought was a good sign.
I put everything on a large stone in the middle of my wet patio and lit it up. After a couple of minutes, there was a good little fire going, and I watched our smiling faces and birthday cards filled with his once loving words, melt before my eyes. Trouble was, a significant breeze had picked up and started swirling a small tornado of embers all around me! I was screaming and trying to get away, but the lost love delivery system, disguised as burning paper, was in my hair, my face, and my mouth and burning tiny holes in my flannel nightgown. All the while, Wes laughed hysterically into my ear!

So…
We met at an Italian restaurant, and armed with a bottle of Chianti courage, we exchanged our Relationship Lists and decided to read each other’s out loud, to gain clarity.
Big mistake…Huge.

He read mine first:
Affectionate…okay
Passionate….yep
Funny….critical
Loves sex….um…
Loves my cats….he glanced up at me and winced
Loves a lot of sex….gulp
Snappy dresser…..really?
Enormously wealthy…Shallow, I warned you!
Blah, blah, blah.

Hearing them out loud was literally painful. My face was on fire with humiliation.
Wes was laughing so hard he had to hold a napkin to his mouth, tears streaming down his face.

Then it was my turn to read his list:
Concerned about the planet…okay.
Philanthropic…of course
Self confidant…uh huh
Belief in a higher power…shit!
Nurturing…I want that!
Concern for my well being…give me my F*cking list back!

My light and funny friend surprised me, his list was seriously great! It was honest and deep and full of heart.

Mine was crap. Where’s a candle? It NEEDED to catch fire!
I was lunging across the table, trying to grab my ridiculously shallow list back, but he put it in his pocket and kept it.

And then, my magical, mystical, friend manifested the perfect man for me.
In a year.

That is the actual list above…I have no pride.
Wes found it in a box during a recent move, framed it, and gave it to me for my birthday last year.

I have yet to manifest a significant other for him….have you seen his standards?!
Xox

Let me give a quick recap, for those of you that haven’t read parts I & II.
(But I suggest you do)
This is a recounting of the spiritual awakening that happened to me in late 1993.

Me, the shitty meditator, suddenly can’t stop meditating, and then crazy, mystical experiences ensue, one of them being a booming voice telling me: “We have an agreement!”…twice.
In my pre-technology search to find out what the hell is happening, I encountered an energy worker, “T” with whom I got a “body work” session.
There, now I think you’re all caught up!

I’ve actually been hesitant to write about what came next, because it wasn’t pretty.
But in the spirit of full disclosure, here goes.

I had the body/energy work, which wasn’t a massage, as my naïveté had led me to believe. His hands never touched my body. They radiated lots of heat, and gave me a tingling feeling as they passed about 6-8 inched above me.
Well, that’s a lie.
He poked and prodded my feet with such intense pressure, I kept yelping, and pulling away. His response? “Breathe through it”.
Thanks pal.

On my way out, he mentioned that I should get some apple cider vinegar to put in a bath, and soak 20 minutes to move out any toxins. He also said I may feel sick.
As I was walking around the Von’s near my house, getting the vinegar and a People Magazine, I started to feel nauseous. Let’s just say, I barely got home without defiling my car. I proceeded to projectile vomit all day and all night for 3 days!
I can remember in my vomit induced semi coma, calling in sick to work, drooling into my pillow and asking the Universe, or whoever would listen, what the hell was happening to me.
“Detox” was all I got.

“T” called during that time to check on me. He actually laughed when I told him how sick I was. “Good, get all that shit out” he said. I never did get used to his weird sense of humor and bedside manner. “It’s all stuck emotion; name it as it leaves.” So I did.
“That’s fear…that’s anger…that’s sadness.” I didn’t have to make it up, the emotion would name itself on its way out. I still do that to this day.

I did tell him I was worried I hadn’t kept any food down is three days, and he suggested I ask “them” to let the food stay, and not leave as vomit. That actually worked. It was so freaky to eat toast and tea, and a half hour later, have the vomit be clear. How does THAT work?

Also, I had no idea the Universe had a request line.

About two weeks later I met “T” for lunch, and he announced that I was ready for another session.
NO WAY, JOSE!!!
He just laughed, telling me that the first time is always the worst, and that mine was particularly ferocious because I am someone who likes “to move fast”.

Why is my process so funny to him, and how is it he thinks he has me all figured out?
He was fast becoming one of my least favorite people, AND
I went the next day for more energy work.

WHAT is my problem!!?? Have I lost my mind???
Not yet.

(To be continued)
XoxJanet

If life is a dance, I have two left feet.
Which of course makes it hard to buy shoes! Ha!
But if you’ve seen me dance, or do Zoomba, or even Tai Chi, you know what I mean.

Everyone else is moving in sync to the right, I’m moving, always with great conviction…to the left.
It’s just my nature.
Always has been. 
As much as I desperately want to avoid embarrassment, it is next to impossible for me to just blend in, to stay inside the lines, to behave and “dance” like everyone else. But, I really have tried, and it has been exhausting.

Just like I play my own soundtrack in my head, as it runs through my life (don’t you?)
I have my own unique, sometimes awkward and clumsy choreography; which I often dance alone. 
It may not be pretty, but it has gotten me here.

Every once in a great while, I’m supremely graceful; like the Prima Ballerina in Swan Lake.
I’m dancing around, up on pointed toes, with my neck long, and my arms fluttering slightly.
The only problem is, the rest of the world is doing a tap routine, and I look like an ass!

So, here’s the thing: I had a humongous epiphany after catching The Dead Poet’s Society on HBO a couple of weeks back. Damn! I had forgotten what a great movie that is, OR, I didn’t have the depth of character in 1989 to fully grasp it’s meaning. Probably the latter.

In case you don’t know, or can’t remember, it takes place in an elite all boys prep school, in the 1950’s. There’s a new, unorthodox English professor, Mr. Keating, who, among other things, has them stand on top of their desks to see the world in a different way. He also challenges them to call him “O Captain, My Captain.”

John Keating: “O Captain, my Captain. Who knows where that comes from? Anybody? Not a clue? It’s from a poem by Walt Whitman about Mr. Abraham Lincoln. Now in this class you can either call me Mr. Keating, or if you’re slightly more daring, O Captain my Captain.”

He is pushing these boy-men to embrace great literature and poetry, to become free thinkers, to question authority and buck convention. In other words, my Holy Grail!

Bear with me here, because it was this next scene that really got me.
He has his class assemble in the school courtyard, where, as an exercise in self-expression, he has them walk in a circle. A couple swing their arms, several stomp their feet, but soon they are all marching perfectly in time. Although they find it funny, Mr. Keating is proving a point.

We may start off marching to our own beat, but we soon succumb to the herd mentality. We all fall in step, conform, becoming part of that herd.
It’s encoded in our DNA.
Mr. Keating wants them to break that code, to consider being another way.
Perhaps, to even entertain the idea that it might be okay to go left, instead of right, to dance to their own untamed choreography.
Hmmmmmm. Maybe my feet aren’t broken after all.

John Keating: Now we all have a great need for acceptance, but you must trust that your beliefs are unique, your own, even though others may think them odd or unpopular, even though the herd may go,
John Keating: “That’s baaaaad.” [imitating a goat] Frost said, “Two roads diverged in the wood and I, I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.”

Amen, Captain, My Captain.
XoxJanet

There is a tightrope that lives at the edge of the cliff,
that spans to the other side.
If you fancy going any further, my friend,
the need for balance is implied.

To take a first step may terrify,
those among you that fail to comply.
For lack of fortitude, courage and balance, has caused,
Many a hopeful to die.

Their death isn’t really an ending as such,
it is merely another chance to try.
For energy doesn’t just disappear to dust,
It regroups for another ride!

Each time you arrive at the edge of this cliff,
with the tightrope firmly in your sights,
just take a deep breath, and don’t look down,
for that will trigger your fear of heights!

But if you let yourself glimpse down below, my love,
for more than a minute, you’ll spoil the plot,
you’ll see that there’s a net of gold, just beyond the edge,
and an angel has tied every knot.

So don’t fear what you see, and don’t understand,
or what is hidden in plain sight.
You’ll discover there’s help every step of the way,
that you can’t see when you put up a fight.

So run across the tightrope, please give it a try!
save your fear for another day.
Now that your know that you never really die,
you can more than live…you can play!

Happy Weekend! here’s another list of symptoms, that may accompany your open heart attack 🙂
XoxJanet

Authentic

au·then·tic adjective ə-ˈthen-tik, ȯ-

real or genuine

not copied or false

true and accurate
: true to one’s own personality, spirit, or character

How authentic are you willing to be? It’s my new obsession, but it can be tricky, because there are seemingly endless layers to authenticity.

I feel like I’m an open book, almost to a fault. I’ll tell anyone, anything they want to know about me. Have you read this blog? It horrifies my husband! In fact, my practice lately has been to dial down the TMI. 
Well…not on this page.

But is that authenticity?
Maybe because it’s easy for me, I’m gonna say no.
I’ll tell you with a laugh, that yes, I’ve farted in yoga; but I may not tell you the truth about your cheating-ass boyfriend, when you ask my opinion. Besides, when someone asks your opinion…they don’t REALLY want to know.

By definition, being true to yourself, accurate and genuine, are the hallmarks of being an authentic human being, but how do you navigate friendships, love relationships and jobs, when you’ve developed a permanent groove from habitually “biting your tongue”. 

I’m finding there’s an art to authenticity.
Expressing a truthful, but measured response.

Sometimes “No” IS a complete sentence; especially when elaborating could open Pandora’s box, or a can of whoop ass.
“It’s just not my thing” or “I’ve never been a fan of that” have saved my life.

I’ve been in retail sales all my life, and I made it a practice to NEVER lie to a customer just to make a sale. I know it pissed off my boss on numerous occasions, but again, if the earrings looked like shit, I steered them in another, sometimes less expensive, but more flattering direction. I know it was appreciated because they made a point to tell me so. A sales person who tells the truth is an anomaly, and it makes an impression.

Gently letting your best friend know that she’s too old to rock the leather mini skirt to the reunion, instead of being the kind of friend that just nods and gives a thumbs up, then turns her head and rolls her eyes. That’s SO not okay! And completely not authentic. A two second “wince” will save her hours of public humiliation, and having to see the pictures on Facebook for years to come. We MUST do this for each other, we MUST show up this way!

Here’s another layer: Our appearance…
In my obsession to live more authentically, I’m growing out all my blonde highlights, and I’m leaning into letting the whole thing finally be the color it’s been dying to be…grey.
I’ll still be getting a rockin’ haircut so I don’t look like Barbra Bush… I’m authentic, not crazy!

But how far am I willing to go with this?
Not concealing the dark under eye circles?
No false eyelashes!?!? 
No make up of any sort? (gasp).
What about nail polish? Spanx????? 
Is that authentic? Or just a cruel thing to do to the people that have to look at me everyday?

It’s kinda funny…or is it?
Are we just trying to “look our best”?
If we’re trying to look 30 when we’re 55, shouldn’t someone be giving us “the wince”?

Here’s my real struggle: Can I just let my chicken neck and my grandmothers hands, that are now at the end of MY arms, be the markers of my journey so far?
Can I /We be authentic enough to let our TRUE selves show up?
How would we be received by the world?
This is definitely a work in progress, so I’m thinking one small step at a time.

Here’s a sentence that goes to the heart of the matter and is really powerful:

IF I’M TRUELY MY AUTHENTIC SELF, WITH MY WARTS, FARTS, CHICKEN NECK, MY TRUTH TELLING, GOOFY, GREY HAIRED, MYSTICAL, PERFECTLY IMPERFECT SELF. AM I STILL LOVABLE?

I’ll leave you with that, talk amongst yourselves.

XoxJanet 

Okay! Now that I’ve got your attention!
In this month of the heart.
I’m not talking about the symptoms of a broken heart, or a dis-eased
heart, but rather an attack of another kind, that of an open heart.

What are the symptoms of a heart opening attack?
Can you guess?
Do you think you’ve felt them?
Let’s see…

Unprovoked crying.
You know the kind, sentimental commercials, cute babies, puppies. And for the brave few that can walk the earth this way; any exchange with another human being. A smile, a nod, just looking into another’s eyes, can cause tears. These are tears of recognition. You see the Divine in that person, and it touches you with its ET finger. and goes straight to your heart,

Grace.
Your life is dry without it. Your heart must be open to attract it. May be mistaken for luck or some innate ability. Don’t be fooled. Grace, true grace, helps you navigate a heart opening.

Generosity. 
When in the midst of a heart opening attack, you may feel unusually generous. You’re thinking money, and it can be about giving money away.
Dr. Wayne Dyer tells the story, that on one of his recent birthdays, he gave away cash all day. He was compelled to do it, and reported that it was his best birthday EVER!
But generosity has many faces Time is a precious commodity these days and we can all get pretty stingy with doling it out. How about sharing time with your spouse, your kids or a friend. Really being present, listening and laughing together can go a LONGGGGGG way!
It also assists in opening their hearts.

Bliss.
Un warranted bliss. Now THAT’S an advanced symptom.
Feeling blissfully happy…for no apparent reason. Giddy, slap happy, giggly, with a silly grin on your face…like the Dali Lama.
Yep. All symptoms of a heart opening.

Touch.
A kind of secondary symptom is wanting to touch people. In a good way, in a kind way, in a loving way.
Hugging, hands on shoulders, holding their hand, even touching someone’s face, which is sort of social taboo. Have you ever marveled at how soft another person’s skin is?? Even a man’s? That’s crazy, isn’t it?…And pretty wonderful.
A shaman once told me that it was important to be touched by another human being every day if possible. Otherwise your skin does not remain soft, it starts to harden.
Touching people in a kind way, is a sign you’ve really turned critical.
Your heart opening attack is in full swing!

Vulnerability.
SO great that this way of being is getting the respect it deserves these days.
Thanks to the daring Brene Brown and others, it is becoming okay, and even desirable to show vulnerability. The ability to do so, shows you are in the advanced stages of your heart opening. It is not to be taken lightly, and is not recommended for the faint of heart (ha!). Once you commit, you can’t go back. You won’t want to.

It is a far better thing, to feel these symptoms of a heart expansion, rather than the constriction that leads to the other serious kind of heart attack. They can actually feel just as scary and uncomfortable to the uninitiated, but take the ride, it is well worth it.

There are more.
Will you share some of your symptoms?
XoxJanet