Life

“The moment we cry in a film is not when things are sad but when they turn out to be more beautiful than we expected them to be.” – Alain de Button

Ha! I love to keep you guys on your toes! Look! It’s a Saturday morning with Jason.

Have a great one!
xox

Simplifying Life

More than I wanted money, I wanted Freedom.
Money = Freedom, I wanted me some of that!

More than I wanted Love, I wanted Belonging, Adoration, Security and Value (someone who knows my worth),
Love = all those things, and oh baby, I wanted me some of that!

More than Love, Freedom, Security, Belonging, Adoration and Value, I wanted Peace of Mind,
All of those things = Peace of Mind, and Peace of Mind = Happiness.

Now I KNOW I want me some big piles of that! (covered in chocolate).

And that’s what it boils down to you guys: I want what I want — Because I  know that I will feel happier having it.

Simple as that.

That made me realize how conditional my happiness is (and how high maintenance I really am), and the fact that I’m just starting to really grasp the concept of chasing happiness all over hell and back while it sits at the kitchen table with coffee and the paper, patiently waiting for me…

What about you? I don’t think I’m alone in this?

Thoughts?

I feel a part two of this post coming soon…

Big love & carry on,

xox

Will you look at this freaking tree?

I’ve had this graphic on a poster for years; its been rolled up in drawer somewhere. It was given to us at a Jesuit retreat and my friend promptly tacked hers up on her bathroom wall. I forever after had a hard time peeing without feeling highly inadequate.

Out of all these practices I MAYBE do five…six on a good day, year.

Now I kinda like looking at it. I do.

I used to feel bad, like I had so far to go in my search for the perfect mindfulness practice. It was like Oprah’s List of Accomplishments Family Tree to which mine could never compare.

Then I started looking at each one, contemplating (wink) if I would ever have the discipline to undertake the ones I’d never even heard of. Take Lectio Divina for instance. It involves reading passages of the Scriptures and contains four separate steps: read; meditate; pray; contemplate; Blah, blah, blah.

You will never, ever find me doing that. I will seek my enlightenment elsewhere; thank you very much.

Sweatlodge: My husband swears by ’em.

Me? I tried it twice…almost dying from the sweltering heat and the overwhelming smell of body odor and cheesy feet — both times. I came close to death, (very,very slight exaggeration, infinitesimal actually) left the tent; pucked; felt like a hot and sweaty failure and a spiritual hack; shame crawled back in…only to almost die again…all in one long night. Then I tried it again (for five minutes) the next day.
Then I went for pizza.

Never, ever, again.

I have so many stories like that because I was a devoted seeker and that’s what seekers do, we see graphics on a poster, with a tree full of paths to contemplation, and like a white sock, black shoe wearing tourist fresh off the bus, we are anxious to go and see and do them ALL.

I wanted to check each one off my imaginary list (there’s a real list somewhere, who am I kidding), like some eager beaver at a cosmic scavenger hunt; in order to cull the nugget of enlightenment contained within.

But alas, I am only human, and a flawed one at that; so I’ve stuck with the ones that work for me; and that’s the point.

Singing;

meditation;

chanting;

walking meditation;

yoga;

labyrinth walking;

silence;

storytelling.

Those and perhaps a few more work for me; the others — not so much.

My advice?
Try the ones that sound interesting; and don’t feel bad if you hate a few.
As you do that, I promise you’ll find the practice or practices that work for you, the ones that quiet your mind long enough to listen to your heart.

Then squirrel those away in your back pocket or your tool box and use as needed.

I’m thinking Sufi dancing, I haven’t tried that one yet.

Carry on,
xox

What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.
– T. S. Eliot

The End is where we start from…hmmmmmm…

Yesterday was about endings; and about calling my power back. I have to walk the talk, right?

For over two weeks I was so knotted up about it that I had knitted a virtual car cozy, a sweater the size of a car cover inside my gut.

You see, I had decided to put what was left of my dearly departed store into auction; all of it; lock, stock and vintage submarine lights.

Just like Daniele wrote about yesterday, (the timing for me was uncanny) it was time for me to call my power back to me; BUT the hang up was this: at the intersection of empowerment and the past; I kept meeting up with my old energy.

Like some goody-two-shoes a-hole who never forgets an uncomfortable incident; or an appointment; my energy would persistently meet me — right where I left it — back in Victim-Ville 2009.

But since I’ve changed so drastically since that time we were not a match anymore and it really started to feel like shit.

So I avoided going there.

I let the remaining items sit at different stores around the city on consignment, and I paid them NO MIND; because they brought back horrible memories that would instantly knock me out of whack, make me feel bad about myself, and force me to eat Fritos by the fistful.

Every fucking time. That sticky, stinky, shitty, loser energy met me there.

That is a law and the sooner we all realize that, the faster we can shift it.

Here’s how it works:
If you had a fight in a restaurant, the next time you go back there, the minute you give your car to the valet you’ll feel that gut-punch; because your energy is the guy that opens the door and greets you there “Welcome back, we’ve been waiting here for you .”

Shit.

How many times have you had a bad experience with the place that services your car, or the dry cleaners; only to have it repeat itself over and over?

I remember when I went to auditions back in the day; there was a big casting agent on Sunset who was nice as can be, but I NEVER booked a job there. After a while, my disappointment would meet me at the door with its Cheshire grin, making sure the casting session was doomed.

So if you meet your energy where you left it— how can you change that?

First, by being aware of it, recognizing that it’s your low expectations, your disappointment, or your painful past that is causing the gut-knot.

Also, time has passed and things have changed. You’ve changed. Right?

When you do that, you can rewrite the story, and while you’re at it you can make sure it’s a much better one. It’s the story of how you called your power back; how inanimate objects, buildings and even people have no power over you — and that you’ve moved on and left no forwarding address.

It’s easier said than done, it took weeks, but that’s what worked for me you guys.

I had a real Come to Jesus with myself (I’ve been doing that a lot lately) where I told myself that inertia was no longer acceptable. Neither was settling, acting like a victim, or being broke.

For Godsakes woman it’s been five years, the statute of limitations on powerless victimhood has expired! Round up all that stuff, take all your old juju off of it by remembering how good and exciting it was to purchase it in the first place, and SELL IT! Go call your power back to you and then be done with it!

Even though I seldom take my own advice, I woke up yesterday, the day everything was getting picked up, with no knot. For once…and for all.

The day could not have gone any better. It went faster, smoother and was more organized than I’d ever imagined. Obviously, my loser energy had flown to Vegas to cause some real trouble.

As I drove away feeling newly empowered, reborn, like a Phoenix from the ashes, it made me remember all the times that the energy that met me — was good. It does work both ways ya know.

So I’ve re-written that story, the story of the store and the flood, and in the new version the auction results five years later — are AMAZING!

So the end is where I’ll be starting from — a new beginning,  a fresh start.

Where does your shitty energy never fail to meet you? How can you re-write your story and regain your power? Do you believe you need an ending to have a beginning?

Lets talk.

Carry on,

xox

Mindfulness is “the intentional, accepting and non-judgemental focus of one’s attention on the emotions, thoughts and sensations occurring in the present moment”, which can be trained by meditational practices derived from Buddhist anapanasati.

So let me get this straight, these little kids have figured out what has taken me YEARS to grasp?

I want to feel bad about myself…that late bloomer thing and all…but I can’t get past the exhilaration.

What an incredible future lies in store for the world if this catches on.

What amazing students they’ll be;

What incredible employees and business owners;

Imagine the children they’ll raise!

You guys, this is getting so good.

Carry on — mindfully,

xox

I’m convinced that one of the main differences between an optimist and someone who walks around with a black cloud over their head without an umbrella; and horribly mis-matched shoes is this:

They believe, as I do, that we get more than just one thing to love

Ask anyone with multiple marriages under their belt if there is only one soul mate per lifetime. (don’t ask mid divorce).

The answer is no.

Optimist. Faithful to the belief that if your true love ship has sailed, just stand at the dock, another will come along.

I’ve loved several men in my life, each relationship was equally powerful but drastically different, and at the time, in the moment, I was convinced they were my one-and-only soul mate — the connection was that intense.

I loved some with only my head; a few exclusively with the region below my waist; but only a couple with all my heart, and they were spaced decades apart.
Thank God I had optimistically stood on that dock waiting, albeit impatiently, for another ship to come in. If I hadn’t, the loss would have been profound.

We get more than just one thing to love.

I found comfort in that because I often got distracted by my phone or the lady with one pink roller in her hair, and I worried that I’d miss my golden opportunities as they passed me by.
Now I know better.

But only because I’m older and wiser (ha) and because I know that as we change and grow, preferences shift and we start to want something different, something…more.

Thank God those ships kept coming — When situations ended I stood waiting for a virtual fleet of ships to come into port — I think I saw you there, (I could tell it was you even with the hat and sunglasses.)

And they always come.

Guaranteed.

This applies to careers as well.
By the time you get to be my age, (our age) you’ve worn many hats so to speak.

I loved working at the Antique Mall, I adored acting and singing, I loved being a jeweler, I LOVED my store, and when that ended I loitered long enough on the dock that writing found me— and it may be the all time love of my life.

We get more than just one thing to love.

I used to LOVE playing jacks as a kid, probably because I was inexplicably good at it, (good eye/hand coordination, that’s all) then I LOVED Barbie’s and Monopoly.

One summer as a fifteen year old I LOVED riding my bike up and down the hills the ten miles to the beach and back everyday. (now just the thought make me want to puke).

I had a friend who LOVED to ice skate, you could find her at the rink every morning, six days a week at 5:30 a.m. She was obsessed. Soon she became so good she started to compete.

I’m not exactly sure what happened, an awkward growth spurt or becoming boy crazy, but one summer she lost interest and all that changed, and by the fall she LOVED horses and started training and competing in dressage.
Now she owns a successful interior design business. Go figure.

Obviously she spent a lot of time on that dock, catching one ship and then the next, and the next, LOVING each one that came along.

We get more than just one thing to love.

More than one great love,

More than one fantastic hobby,

More than one way to wear our hair that makes us look the way we envision ourselves,

More than one goal in life, or purpose, or destiny (yes, I said destiny)

More than one thing that we are better at than anybody else,

More than one chance…

We get more than just one thing to love.

Marinate in the thought of that all weekend,

Bon Voyage! and Carry on,
xox

Did you know the meaning of this word? Yeah, me neither!
Cool huh?

The reason I’m bringing this up is…This is something a genie says when he grants your wish.

He crosses his arms and with a nod of his mighty turbaned head he proclaims Abracadabra! and with that one word he creates exactly what you asked for.

But can you remember what he says before he grants that wish?

I can only recall it because I’m mildly delusional, AND it’s been the first thing in my head a few mornings this past month.

Your wish is my command.

Seriously.

Imagine waking up to that.

It sets the bar pretty high.

Suddenly having your coffee brought to you doesn’t quite cut it anymore, because my genie would know that what I really wished for was a rich, creamy hot chocolate, not a cup of breakfast blend with rice milk.

Your wish is my command.
It puts the abra in Abracadabra, because think about it; first the genie has to know what you want in order to speak it into reality.

Do you know what you want? Really?
I can be vague and often completely misdirected (hot chocolate).

Are you conscious of what you say, what your words are creating?

Yeah, not so much.

I know how I want to feel: happy, healthy, vital, successful, relevant, loved, etc, etc, etc. But what wishes will deliver those feelings to me?

What if in the mornings the first thing the Universe said to us was: Your wish is my command (which it does).

How would that feel?

If you knew that to be true, how would that change the way you look at life?

What in the holy hell would you be wishing for after three weeks, a month, six months; if you had a wish granted every morning?

I love a good theory and my latest is this: that waking up with that phrase in my head was a not-so-subtle reminder that that is really how the world works, and I’ve forgotten to remember — so I think I have to struggle and effort my way through life.

Right? Haven’t you forgotten?

Your wish is my command.

Abracadabra!

Fuck, I love reminders.

These are my favorite words until further notice. That and gobsmacked. I LOVE gobsmacked.

Carry on,
xox

I was going to write about the fact that there are a whole bunch of us, right now, about to make a leap.

Thinking about making a leap,

Just waiting for the …courage to make that leap!

But instead, all I want to say is that we should all get together energetically; because we’re better together you guys. So let’s leap as a group — lets be fucking brave!

Who’s with me?!

Ready…
Set…
GO!

xox

Oh God, pah-leeeeez don’t ask me to go with you, please for the love of all things holy go by yourself…

“I’d really love you to go with me to this car rally on Sunday”

There, he’d gone and done it, he’d interrupted my prayer vigil to ask me to do the very thing I was dreading: accompany him on an all day car rally in his newly restored vintage 1961 car —  the car of his dreams which he’d waited five years to drive — on his birthday weekend.

The trifecta of wifely favors.

Fuck.

I would rather have needles stuck in my eyes, walk on hot coals, or go to Disneyland with a bunch of little kids —on a hot day — during spring break.

But you see, I’m not a total ass, I had endured one of these rally’s in another car a few years back and It. Was. Torture. According to the rules of the Geneva Convention.

Every other participant knew Moses when he was a boy, the median age being approximately one hundred and seven, and saying I had nothing in common with their trophy wives who were hoping against hope that that Sunday would be the day the old geezer would kick the bucket – was an understatement of epic proportions.

I was sure I could not endure another vintage car rally, but in light of the fact that I am currently extolling the virtues of the book The Zim Zum of Love by Rob and Kristen Bell, I was forced to reconsider.

One of the things the book talks about is maintaining the energy or Zim Zum that exists between couples. One of the ways is through simple acts of kindness.

So I knew I had to suck it up…and walk the talk.

Fuckity, fuck, fuck.
He was so excited, all enthused and …happy; an emotion he hadn’t displayed in the month since our old dog had passed.

And did I mention it was his birthday?

So I grabbed myself by the scruff of the neck (not an easy feat) and had a Come-to-Jesus-Talk with ME.

You’ve got to do this so you might as well make the best of it. Try to have fun (that was my mantra all day) this means so much to him and it really is no skin off your nose to take a long ride in a cool car to Malibu for lunch. Try to smile, try to make conversation, try be nice — try to have fun.

In order to jooj up the fun factor I decided to be anyone but myself and play the part of a sixties femme fatale. I donned the requisite head scarf, Jackie O shades and attitude to get into the character of an International Woman of Mystery, someone who would have ridden in that car back in its heyday, and I’ve got to say, as corny as it sounds, that really helped.

That is until they let the air out of my balloon when they handed us the ten pages of “crazy clues and fun facts”  that were part of the directions to our lunch destination.

I would have loved to have seen my face — My eyes rolled so hard I almost did a back-flip

This was that most dreaded of all car rally’s: The Cloying Scavenger Hunt Rally where the navigator (me) reads the pages and pages of ever so clever clues to the driver in order to figure out which street to turn on or how far up ahead to stop.

Fuck.

I almost ripped off the scarf and glasses and went screaming down the hill, that is until I looked at his face. He looked so… hopeful, wanting me to just go along and be a sport, and I could hear the wobbly, self righteous Zim Zum between us calling my name…Janet…be kind…do the right thing…how many stupid-ass things have you dragged him to?

Zim Zum never lies; so I sucked it up, put on my shades, tied my head scarf and smiled; then down through the hills of Beverly we went as I called out clues and street names.

Try to have fun…just have fun. I kept repeating until it got easier.

The further we went, the sillier we got (truth be told he also thought this whole part was asinine. Whew!) Until we were laughing and waving at fellow drivers and suddenly I realized I was having a rally good time.

It turned out to be the perfect way to take his new baby out for a spin; and once we figured out where we were headed we just relaxed, chucked the ridiculously difficult list of clues, (it’s not like we were being graded) and enjoyed the gorgeous day.

Sometimes a relationship; a marriage; requires sacrifice.

Sometimes that sacrifice takes up your entire Sunday.

Sometimes you are reduced to wearing a disguise, I mean scarf and sunglasses, to make it palatable.

And sometimes, if you stop being such a stuck-up-bitch-face, stop thinking of only yourself and just show some love and kindness to your husband on his birthday — in spite of yourself you can have a whole lotta fun.

I’m always learning.

Psssst…don’t show too much enthusiasm or he’ll make you go every time.

Carry on,

Xox

There is a mysterious, indescribable, complex exchange that can happen in the space between you and your partner. You find each other. Your centers of gravity expand as your lives become more and more entwined. You create space for this other person to thrive while they’re doing the same for you. This creates a flow of energy in the space between you. This energy field is at the heart of marriage. It flows in the space between you, space that exists nowhere else in the universe. You can become more familiar with how this energy field works. You can develop language between you to identify what’s happening in the space between you. You can sharpen your abilities to assess it. You can act in certain ways to increase the flow. You can identify what’s blocking the flow, and then you can overcome those barriers. Years into your marriage, you can continue to intensify this energetic flow between you.

It is risky to give yourself to another. There are no guarantees, and there are lots of ways for it to fall apart and break your heart. But the upside is infinite.

—from The Zimzum of Love

New York Times bestselling author Rob Bell and his wife, Kristen Bell, explore a whole new way of understanding our most intimate and powerful relationship: marriage. The concepts behind The Zimzum of Love open ways for us to transform and deepen how we love.

Thank you sidewalk snail races.

For reminding me to sloooooooow down; life’s not a race to a far away imaginary finish line.

For showing me the beauty in looking down — there’s some awesome shit happening below my feet.

For nature and all the wonderful things it can teach us IF we pay attention.

For demonstrating once again that it’s the journey that counts and in the case of snails and destinations — Determination…slow and steady. Slow and steady. Don’t show off.

For also reminding me not to worry — about anything — after all, you have all you need traveling right along with you inside that shell. (at least you do in MY imagination)

And thank you so much my slithery friends for taking your fearless Saturday stroll, amid the pedestrians and dogs and rascally kids, in MY neighborhood.

And remember: keep walking and stay out of my garden.

Have a wonderful Sunday you guys; filled with long walk, friends and gratitude.

Carry on,
xox