humor

*I wrote this a while ago, waiting for the time to post it. The memories should start to be getting fuzzy after twenty years, but on the contrary, they are crystal clear. Still, I’m glad to be finally writing them down.
I decided to post this, because yesterday Dr. Lisa Rankin (whose work I love) wrote about her recent spiritual awakening on her Facebook page. She is still processing it, and had the courage to share it, feeling that there are more of us out here that can help each other. Everyone’s awakening looks different. This is mine.
If you want to hear the rest, let me know.
XoxJ

We Have An Agreement Part I

Almost exactly 20 years ago, I went a little crazy.
Even more than I already am.
Well, not actually, but you could have fooled me.
A wise friend smiled and told me I was insane = in sanity.
What?
If it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck….just sayin’

It all started with meditation.
This is not a cautionary tale, it is a historical account.
Don’t get your panties in a bunch!
I’m not saying meditation drives everyone crazy, it just felt that way to ME.
(Legal disclaimer…I think) 

I had always sucked at meditation. Yet, I studied it for years.
I even had a Meditation Master who gave me a mantra when I was about 19.
I just couldn’t calm my monkey mind.
I would ponder what I was going to have for dinner, or what song that was that I could hear faintly playing in the distance, or why my nose was constantly itching, and my leg was falling asleep.

Time. stood. still.

Shit! An hour and a half seemed more like two weeks!

I could never reach that place of inner peace and transcendence that I had heard and read so much about. It was like the donkey and the carrot, always just out of reach.

But man I gave it my all…for many years.
I decided to stop for a while, worn out by the struggle.

Then there I was 35, when I suddenly got the urge to start again. I was able to ignore it for a while, but it kinda turned into marching orders and I was compelled to oblige.
THAT should have been a preview of coming events.

So every night at 9 p.m. I sat down to meditate. And what transpired was not at all what I expected and pretty mystical.
Now bear in mind I lived alone, thank God.

Not only was I able to calm the monkey mind, I started to leave my body and “observe” it from above.
Sometimes, I could see myself all fallen over into my own lap, (which is frowned upon in meditation class, it’s all about the straight spine.)

Other times I was siting and spontaneously rotating counter-clockwise from the waist up in a slow circular motion.

Twice I did this hysterical laughing, that took turns with hysterical sobbing…which I “observed” from above.

I kid you not.

Often I smelled incense, when I wasn’t burning any…or roses.
My lips, face and hands would tingle and vibrate.
Not only that, 45 minutes would go by like that (snap)

Just disappear.

Where had THAT been hiding years ago? I coulda been a superstar in class.

After about three months, I started to notice that all the clocks in my house, wind up, digital, even the clock on the VCR ( which I had set on the correct time, thank you very much, it’s called reading the directions, people.) it didn’t matter, even my quartz watch, they were all off by 45 minutes.
They were 45 minutes BEHIND my starting time after I came out of meditation!
Now keep in mind this was the early 90’s when people still looked to clocks and not their phones to tell time.

Anyway, that made me late for everything AND it freaked me out.

This was the dark ages, before cell phones and Facebook and most importantly,Google.

I couldn’t look any of this phenomena up, and I didn’t have the foggiest idea what was happening to me.
Spiritual and mystical topics were not on TV or a part of popular culture like they are now.
There was the Bodhi Tree bookstore here in LA, a kind of spiritual Mecca, where I held everyone in high regard,(don’t ask me why) so I went and whispered to some guy who smelled like patchouli, what was happening, and he just shook his head and handed me a small crystal for protection.

Some protection.
The following night as I start to meditate, (now, aren’t you thinking to yourself, why is she still doing that?…I am!) I heard this deep booming voice say “We have an agreement”
Well… My eyes flew open, I jumped up, protective crystal flying under the bed, and I started to run around the room.

Seriously…like a chicken.

Then I hear it again, this time in my living room “We have an agreement”
Uh oh, I’m gonna pee my pants AND what can of worms have I unwittingly opened?

Now I’m getting scared.
Okay, intrigued and scared. I needed some answers.

Note to self: stop meditating.

But I can’t, I’m compelled to continue…until things start to really get weird.
(to be continued)

Xox

The last few days I’ve witnessed something really interesting with the Boxer-shark puppy, that feels like a metaphor for life. 
I have to preface that by saying that my powers of observation have become incredibly keen. I’m not kidding…maybe just exaggerating….Bear with me here.

The human body is a miracle in regards to perpetuating our survival. It replaces the senses that have shut down due to lack of respect, with others that are freakishly heightened. 

I have no business out driving the streets, running errands, aka living my life, with the puppy screaming in her crate in the back, but somehow I am. My guardian angel will be getting her hearing checked and going into seclusion after this, leaving no forwarding address.

I have no sense of humor, can’t remember where anything is and could cry at the drop of a hat, but damnit if I can’t smell puppy poop that’s two days old, under the couch, in a room that’s had the door shut the whole time. WTH?

I can hear the tiniest whimper in a dead sleep at 3am. 
My husband, he can sleep through her wailing as if her foot is caught in a bear trap! How does he DO that?
Sleep deprivation has left me bleary minded and craving carbs…for survival, people!
Really?…I can hear you!

Anyway… We have a 6 inch step from the bedroom up into the bathroom.
If the Boxer-shark stands in front of it, she is the same height.
She struggles with the step.
Especially going down.
It’s from stone to a hard wood floor and she’s been launched, catapulted, flung and just plain rolled off of it this past week, many, many times, so I get the trepidation.
But she’s only cautious when she’s just sniffing and exploring and silently looking for havoc to wreak.

When the other dog is home and they’re running and growling and fighting/playing (I’m using the word playing when I really mean taunting.) She FLYS off that step with the grace and ease of one of the gymnasts from Cirque du Soleil. She doesn’t even look down, she’s a freakin’ professional, (she’s clearly gifted) Not a second’s hesitation!

If she STEPS off after much careful deliberation, when she’s alone, one paw timidly feeling for the floor, she inevitably falls, and then rolls…so it looks like she meant to do that.

Don’t we all do that? I do!
If I over think an obstacle, I can make it so scary that I inevitably falter.
Better to do a quick evaluation and sail right over it! Run then jump!
…Or follow the big dog.
I’m still deciding which metaphor I like better.

“She took a leap, and built her wings on the way down.” 
– Anon

Another week and the step will be a non-issue, she will have outgrown her fear.

What’s your bathroom step fear, and are YOU ready to follow the big dog and outgrow it?

XoxJanet

Dear Money,
I know our relationship has felt strained these last few years,
but we’ve always been so close and…..I miss you.

My darling Money…I think we should reconcile.
I know it looks like my life’s been all topsy turvy for a while now, and I seem like a bad risk, but I can assure you, I’ve worked really hard on myself and I’ve grown so much.
I feel like I can meet you half way. 

You must admit, you’ve been very elusive, really playing hard to get.
You barely even show your face, and when you do, I turn around and you’re gone.
That hurts, because I can still remember all the good times we had.
All that crazy spontaneous traveling we did together, remember Italy, with the shopping, and long lunches? 
You were always so there for me. I want to make more of those memories!

We even bought a house together for cryin’ out loud!
I think I showed my commitment to the long haul, what about you?

Sure, I made a few mistakes, but who hasn’t!
We had “it” once and I think we can have “it” again.
That kind of friendship doesn’t just disappear.

My choices may have seemed questionable, but now, if you could just stick around for a while, you’d see how they’re all working out for me.

You’ve said in the past that I’m overly sensitive, but you’re the one who’s stayed away for so long…and without even a goodbye.

I’m willing to forgive, forget and move on…together, hand in hand…like the old days.
Take a few days to think about it…I know how you are about change.

XoxJanet

Have you been noticing lately, like I have, that the happy place you go to in meditation has picked up its tent and moved, without leaving a forwarding address?

It feels just like when you get all cozy to sit down and watch your favorite show on cable, and the screen says: This channel is currently unavailable.
Damn you Time Warner!

Five days later you finally receive the notice that the cable company is changing the channel line up. Shouldn’t that be sent out BEFORE they rock your world?
When you examine the postmark, the date is like ten days previous!
WTF? Did they mail it from Antartica?
NASA can get mail to the International Space Station faster!
Suddenly, I’m not certain who to be madder at, the postal service, or cable??!!

Okay, so it’s like that.
The station we normally tune into has been changed, and it doesn’t feel right.
The connection is weak, we can’t land into it, so to speak.

Until we get the notice from the Universe, as to where they moved their tent,
I’m just sitting and trying to feel my way there.
“A little to the right, no, no, to the left now….that’s better!”
Like having your little brother adjust the rabbit ear antenna on the TV when you were kids, to get better reception.

The Universe has done this before, so I know it WILL become clear again.
It will be better, with more features after this latest update, but now it’s kinda offline.
It just irritates me when it changes without warning.
I’m intuitive and I didn’t even get the memo!

It feels to me like the end of these changes…giving us time to assimilate.
At least for a few months.
Until we get all cozy again.
Then: This channel is currently unavailable.
What?! Come on!!

Xox Janet

Can I get an amen?

What the hell!? I’ve gone and committed another act of treason on my sane and reasonable life. Seems that’s just the way I roll these days!
We picked up our 8 week old Boxer puppy on Sunday, and I haven’t slept more than an hour at a time since. What was I thinking?!?!

This blog is about to get very raw and real for the next few days, because my self editing faculties left me somewhere around Tuesday at 3am, and I have helicopter hair, meaning it looks like it was styled by a helicopter at full throttle up.

Good thing you don’t have SmellPad.
I think I showered this week…all I remember is our senior dog literally walking into the running shower with me to escape the madness. 
Desperate times, require desperate measures!

Puppy madness is different than your garden variety madness. It comes in the form of a small furry demon, with tiny needle teeth and nails that can slice a tomatoe. It leave your hands bloody stumps, your neck look like Freddy Kruger gave you a massage, and all the while your heart is breaking from cuteness overload.
Yet, it’s hard to believe, that madness has left my life in a shambles.

It’s all I can do to write a blog post, but I treat this commitment like a job I actually love.
That being said, I have fallen asleep at this table, twice.
My feet are now torn to shreds, I’ve drunk more coffee than an Italian model consumes in a month, and I have written more about sex and chocolate than one woman has any right to.
I’m finding out that’s just where my mind goes when the going gets tough. 
Good to know…not really.
Delete….delete…delete.

It’s been a seasonal 80 degrees this January here in LA. 
That’s seasonal if you live south of the equator, which makes it all the more horrifying that I’ve taken to wearing Uggs, a thick scarf and gardening gloves for protection from the boxer-shark.
I can hear you haters on the East coast…wanna trade lives?

All this to pose a question: Why do we have babies, raise puppies, get bad break-up haircuts?? Why do we f**k up our lives like that? I’ll tell you why!
Because we forget the pain AND they grow and change faster than you can say “Shit, I’ll never do THAT again”!
The Universe, in all it’s wisdom, or as a cruel joke, I haven’t decided yet, gives us amnesia to perpetuate the species and keep us from sending the piranha-puppy packing. Say that fast three times!
Plus they’re just so damn cute!

So I guess after the whisk of sleepless nights stops scrambling my days and everything settles, I’ll actually miss these times. 
But if you see me on the street in a few years and I talk about wanting another puppy…run me over with your car!
You have my permission!
XoxJanet

Once upon a time, when I had my store, a lot of people referred to it as a gallery, and I suppose it was, in the looseiest, gooseiest sense of the word.

I thought it would be a cool idea to feature up and coming local artists, and display them alongside all of the vintage doodads.

In the beginning, every three or four months, I would send out postcards, and invite friends and clients to an art “opening” with decent wine, toothpick skewered cheese and super-groovy music (usually the artist’s playlist, so, yeah, way groovier than my snoozy Spotify mix.)

One particularly talented artist whose style was very similar to Jean Michel Basquiat came close to selling out his entire show one opening night, he had become that popular! I took a chance, because I saw something special in his work, and lo and behold, so did a shit-ton of other people!

Damn! What a thrill!

Still, when I had my meet and greet with the artists, prior to scheduling a show, each and every one had NO idea what to charge for their work. They had even less of a clue as to what their costs had been in time and materials. They stared at me like I was explaining Quantum String Theory when I inquired about their time expenditure.

“How much time did this piece take?” I’d ask. “And what is your time worth?”
They had no freakin’ idea!
They kept no receipts for framing, or paint, or clay, or brushes, and for them, time just disappeared as they worked…so that was that.

Really? Well! I soon determined that was the sign of a good artist—but a lousy business person.

Seems you can’t have both in the same body, except for Damien Hirst.
He is an example of someone with both mad business and marketing skills along with talent, and that has driven his prices well into the six figures.

Everyone else has a more right-brain mentality. “Don’t bother me with the real world. I just want to create, I don’t want to keep a spreadsheet.”

If you become too practical, you’ll cut off your connection to the Muse.

Now, I totally get it!

It seems it is virtually impossible to balance your checkbook and paint a masterpiece.
Maybe it’s that right-brain, left-brain thing.

It’s a lot like studying theory and technique. If you get TOO polished, all your individuality goes flying out the window. You keep the tools that work, and discard the rest.

It’s often the creations made from breaking the rules that resonate the most with people.

What I must admit I have a knack for is looking at something and determining its value. The more unique the better!

Art can be tough. It’s poorly subjective. Appreciation lies in the eye of beholder. Nevertheless, every artist I featured had been in other small galleries around town, and I always got them double or triple their previous prices. It was always hardest in the beginning and then once things sold, their “value” was established.

That’s what gallery owners do, they help establish a value.

Now that I’m no longer involved in my previous “field of expertise” I’m noticing that I have the exact same problem my oh, so talented artists did.

Determining your own value? Fuck. It’s haaaaard.

So, you can imagine my chagrin as I add my name to that long list.
Now I’m a WE.
WE don’t know how to set our value,
or WE have a number in mind, but don’t have the balls to ask for it.
WE stare blankly into space when asked what WE think our time is worth.

Damn, I used to know!! Without hesitation! I didn’t have a masters in Art History, or a Harvard business degree. I just knew what I liked, and if I liked it, I knew other people would too.

That’s it! It’s always the same! Value is set by what someone will give as an exchange for the “service” provided, and it’s based on how it makes them feel.

I’m getting warmer…
Carry on,
Xox

Are you spiritually superstitious?
I’m pretty sure I am.
No, in the spirit of full disclosure, I KNOW I am.
I’ve taken to practicing all these little rituals to maintain a semblance of spiritual order.
It’s like I just keep catching myself repeating certain actions, or developing habits
that are starting to make me feel like Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man.

Do you do that?

Sure you do.

You don’t?

Shit.

So.. I write this blog…everyday.
Unless I don’t, which is seldom, but I’ll still post an inspirational saying or photo.
The pressure is immense! (not really, I actually love it)!
But somewhere between my devotion to this blog, and my amazement that something actually comes to me to write every day, I’ve become spiritually superstitious, I guess to keep things flowing in an orderly manner.

Until recently, I didn’t get out of bed until my little ritual was complete,
And it went like this:
1) Wake up, say “thank you” (in my head). 
If I say it out loud, my husband will think something amazing happened last night, another thing he can’t remember, and it’ll just piss him off. 
So the “thank you” is always silent. And must not be skipped!

See, there it starts!
Because…step two is:
2) Sit up and meditate.
But if I’ve forgotten the “thank you” part that comes before, then it kinda turns into my mantra, so the Universe can be clear how much I appreciate another shot at this life.
Then my mind isn’t empty enough for it to count as a REAL meditation,
so I have to sit longer until it does. 
I can feel you judging!

3) Then I write. 
Really what I do is I just get out of the way, and let the Universe/Muse write.

Then I get out of bed and pee.
Always in that order. 
If I change it up, it just doesn’t flow. I’m just not on my game.
Like the major league pitcher who wears the same socks and underwear to
every game he pitches, to ensure his good luck, I’ve developed these crazy superstitions.
( Hmmmm…same socks and underwear, food for thought).

I’m sure I do it also to maintain my good standing with the Universe.
It’s never too late to start, right?
Because…
Do you curse?
I do.
I have a mouth like a sailor, and I fear that may be the end of enlightenment for me.
Do monks cuss? I don’t think they do.
Nuns do, this I know for sure!
I remember a nun in third grade called us “damn kids”.
She may then have spontaneously combusted…I can’t remember.

I can just see it, I’ll be on the top step of the ladder to Heaven/Nirvana,
and I’ll realize I left the secret password to the Pearly Gates on the kitchen table,
or in my other purse! 
“Are you f* ing kidding me, Shit!”

“You can’t say that! 
God doesn’t like a potty mouth! 
No wings for you”!

So, I feel like if I say thank you, and meditate and then write, in the proper order every day, and I mean EVERY day, it offsets the cursing, and all the other stuff.
Like I have earned the “Grace” every author requires to create.
See what I’m talking about?
Are you with me?

But… last time I checked we were all human.
We curse and we cut in line at the cleaners, (well, I guess I should just speak for myself) and we sleep in and forget to meditate (gasp).

We can shake things up and still enlighten, right?
Perfectly imperfect?
If my desire and intention are pure, no need for ritual or luck.
None of that “same socks and underwear” stuff needed to ensure my success, because I’m learning it really isn’t a matter of luck at all!
It’s all about trust.

I can pee first and then write! No harm, no foul!
I try to write three hours a day now, (the operative word being “try”), so it doesn’t have to be first thing anymore, and as far as I can tell, the earth is still spinning on its axis.

So now it’s:
1) “Thank you”
2) Meditate,
3) Then get up… To maintain world order for now, and to keep the “Grace” coming.
But, if you start to notice things have gone a bit awry,…
I may have slept in.