Magic

Spread Your Magic However You Can [ With Audio]

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The most charming and interesting social experiment has been taking place
In. My. Front. Yard.

About three years ago I saw a picture on Facebook I think, of a bucket full of magic wands, made from dried flowers from the garden.

That is SOooooooooo up my alley.
I’d use a magic wand AND I’d wear a tiara every day, even on a Thursday, even with jeans, if I could get away with it.

So ever since then, I cut my agapanthus in the summer, when they’re done flowering, and I put them in a bucket marked:

FREE
MAGIC WANDS

I live on a tree lined residential street, where contrary to popular belief, people really do walk in LA.
Neighbors walk their dogs and young families stroll their kids when things cool down around dusk, so I had me some high hopes about the wand reaction.

The first year…meh. Reaction was tepid.
They just sat there. My wands of magic.
I was very disappointed.
‘Fine, more magic for me.’

Last year, the wands got a little better reaction, but if ten were in the bucket on Monday, five were still there on Friday.
I saw people look at them, AND KEEP WALKING. Can you believe that shit?

Free.

Magic wands.

There for the taking.

I was gobsmacked.

When I put the bucket out a month or so ago, I had to have a little talk with myself.
I had to remind me about the nature of people, and the too cool for school factor, and how some parents don’t want their children to believe in such a thing as magic (or carry around a spiky dead flower.) But I put it out anyhow.

To my delight, this year has been extraordinary!
I can’t keep the bucket filled.

There were eleven in there yesterday morning and when I went out to run an errand at three….gone.
The other night when one of my friends came by, she sat in her car and watched a family, a mom and dad and two small kids, very deliberately and gleefully choose just the right wands. That makes me want to cry.

I can’t keep the neighborhood stocked in wands!

Magic is rampant here in the City of Angels. 

I wore everybody down, until they could resist no more.

“Magic wands for everyone!” cried no one in particular – but, I understand supply and demand, and there’s a run on wands, so I may have to cut some of the neighborhood agapanthus late at night while they sleep.

I don’t want summer to end, because that signals the end of the wands of magic.. *sniff, *sigh….

Maybe next year I’ll paint them gold or add glitter! (that just made my heart race, seriously)

Love Janet the Good Witch,
Xox

Happy Friday Everyone!

In case you’d rather listen 😉
https://soundcloud.com/jbertolus/spread-your-magic

Overcoming My Fear Of Bambi

  • imagePeople always ask me if I’m afraid I’m going to die on the motorcycle, which leads me to ask them: Are you afraid to live?

    About ten years ago, we, my hubby and I, decided to take our “Left Turn Ride.”
    Our plan, (which was hatched over too much wine on a Friday night, but brilliant just the same) was to ride up the west coast of the US, from LA to Vancouver Island, British Columbia, staying as far left as the roads would allow without having to wear a wetsuit.

    Our trip motto: When in doubt – turn left.

    Those were in the days before I met Ginger who turned me onto custom earphones and the concept of riding with music playing at all times. I now go to great lengths to assemble the perfect soundtrack for each day of our rides.
    Big, sweeping instrumentals for curves and great scenery, Sting for the moors of Scotland and Ireland, Billy Joel, Annie Lennox or Gaga for city riding and even a best-selling book for the long stretches of flat, straight, highway in Wyoming.

    On this “Left Turn Ride” I had only my own thoughts to keep me company, which could put me into a kind of zoned out state of bliss, or wreak havoc, depending on what I was seeing, how much sleep and coffee I’d had, and my general state of being that day.

    I know.

    Crap shoot, in head to toe Kevlar, on two wheels going 80 m.p.h.

    I’m a pretty even-tempered person, relatively low maintainance (if you just heard a thud, that’s my husband falling out of his chair) I’ve even been known to fall asleep on the back of the bike.
    No, you don’t fall off.
    No, I don’t admit any of this to my mother.

    Up the coast of Oregon and Washington we rode through mile after mile of gorgeous redwood forests.
    The scent of pine is one of my all time favorite things in the world next to the sound of babies laughing and bacon.
    Redwoods and Pine trees are at the top of my list of the reasons Why I Ride.
    They feed my soul.

    Sometimes the forest gets so dense and dark and the smell gets so strong, like a Christmas tree farm, you become completely transported to another time and place; of fairies, devas and magic. The trees truly are not just living, but ALIVE, and so is the forest……and therein lies the rub.

    One day in central Oregon, if I remember correctly, we saw remnants on the road of a deer that had the misfortune of meeting the front bumper of a logging truck at 65 mph.
    Then another.
    The next day, a red pickup truck was at a gas station, totaled on all four sides as a huge buck had gone up and over the front hood and windshield, with its legs making contact with the side panels on its way down the back and straight to heaven.
    That is when my thoughts, left to their own devices without the distraction of music, went to work on me.

    “What happens if we hit a deer?” I asked later at lunch, picking all the good bits out of my salad.

    My husband looked at me as if I just slapped him and slowly put down his fork.
    Shaking his head and fiddling with his paper napkin (he HATES paper napkins, it’s the French in him) he let out a long sigh.

    “Well, I will try to slow down if I have the chance, I won’t jam on the brakes and I won’t swerve to get out of the way because THAT will kill us for sure.”

    I stopped chewing.

    “When we hit it, the guts will splatter all over us, the deer will die, it’ll total the front of the bike, but hopefully we’ll be okay.”

    Shit. I dropped my fork.

    “If it’s an Elk or a Moose, you can kiss your ass goodbye.”
    I’ll do all the same things, I’ll slow down, go straight ahead…..but we’ll all die. That’s a huge animal.”

    He nonchalantly picked up his fork and started to eat again, like he just given me the weather report.
    Cloudy with a chance of reindeer.
    I’m crying now, and in my best freaked out seven-year old voice I wailed:
    “What!!!!!!!??????? You mean…we could DIE! Holy shit!”

    He was laughing now, big giant guffaws of laughter.
    “You’re kidding, right? It never occurred to you that you could die on a motorcycle?”

    Because my fate suddenly seemed uncertain and life too short; I stopped a passing waitress and ordered a hot fudge sundae.

    “Well, no. Certainly not at the hands of a Bambi.”

    He went on to explain that the greatest threat was when the wildlife was most active – dusk and dawn. That is apparently when the most vehicle versus fauna accidents occur.

    My husband has this theory about accidents. They are a series of random events that converge at the same time and place. If you remove ONE component, the accident cannot occur. For instance, if you forget something and run back into the house delaying your departure by five minutes, that will either place you on or remove you from the accident timeline.

    I wanted to remove us from that timeline.

    My new rule: No riding before nine in the morning and kickstands down by five.

    Suddenly my beautiful pine forests were filled with terrifying, furry, four-legged terrorists ready to leap out at any moment and render us dead.

    Why I Ride is all about the experiences. It’s about Living life.

    Hadn’t I just said that to the person that asked me if I was afraid of dying?

    Now I found myself afraid for tens of hours a day, my eyes searching for animals lurking in the landscape, ready to leap.
    Cute became creepy.

    Fuck I hate fear, it changes you…..it was changing me.
    It was making me afraid of some implied danger, trading beautiful experiences for the illusion of safety.

    I was willing to forgo some of my all time favorite things –– the sunrise and sunset rides, the mystical, foggy, early morning departures right after coffee with the promise of a big breakfast after a couple of hours of sleepy coastal roads.

  • No way Jose, I’m sleeping in. Those brazen killers will be stirring at that hour.

    Wait…why do I ride?
    (To be continued)

    Xox

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SOMETHING From NOTHING

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Creation!
Think about it.
This world operates on a kind of cosmic auto-pilot where Divine Order prevails.

Buds turn into flowers, acorns to oaks, tadpoles to frogs and an egg and sperm into a human being.
It is automatic, pre-programmed alchemy, mixed with a dash of abracadabra and a pinch of magic.

If you’ve ever planted a garden from seeds you’ve witnessed this.
One day there is dirt. Then maybe some dirt and fertilizer. Later, you throw down some seeds, quite randomly actually, trying your best to duplicate Mother Nature; add some water and sunshine and voila! In a few days, from what was previously barren earth, little green sprouts start to peek their way into existence.

You, with a lot of help from the Universe, have created SOMETHING from NOTHING.

That never ceases to amaze me when I slow down long enough to actually let it sink in.

SOMETHING from NOTHING.

Ideas become real, caught in third dimension, for eyes to behold, scholars to ponder, haters to hate.
We cannot help it, residing in this world of creation.
It is everywhere.
Bee hives and boobies, birds nests, coral reefs, ant hills.
Nature is constantly showing off. Her cycles of birth, life and death, showing us the way.
It’s that ashes to ashes thing she does so well.

SOMETHING from NOTHING.

The earliest men and women stared at the blank walls of their caves and after dinner and dishes, they drew with ash from their fire what they saw around them.
It’s in our genes.

A blank canvas calls the painter to it, like the marble summons the sculptor.
Aren’t we all glad the marble didn’t summon the painter, the canvas the cook?
Divine Order is savvy that way. An acorn doesn’t become a rosebush any more than we hatch from eggs, it’s all been worked out and it’s perfect.

SOMETHING from NOTHING

It’s the same with writing.
I start with a blank screen. Some days it taunts me with its blankness, but then the Muse starts to talk, and when she talks I listen – and I write.
Soon, that blank screen is filled with five hundred words. In the old days I would have been engulfed in a sea of crumpled rejects, these days if something doesn’t jell it’s as easily forgotten as delete, delete, delete.
I know I’m no different from every other writer when I confess to being as surprised as anyone, that the ideas actually make it to the page.

SOMETHING from NOTHING.

Cooking.
Random ingredients, spices, oil, water, et al, gathered into an empty pot, simmering, beckoning for recognition. An hour ago this dish ceased to exist. I’ve said it before – add the final ingredient, LOVE.
It’s freaking alchemy. I’m telling you.

If you make jewelry, it all starts with an idea. Then add gold, stones and artistry.

If you build a house – idea. Then add dirt lot, lumber, elbow grease.

If you write a song, it’s an idea that attaches itself to music. How about THAT.

Every Corporation, company, great cause, charity, invention, started as an invisible idea.

SOMETHING from NOTHING.

As I see it, it goes:
idea, intent, execution…..stand back……repeat.

We all do this in so many aspects of our day to day life, I think it’s important to recognize the alchemy and be appreciative of the fact that Divine Order exists.

SOMETHING from NOTHING.

What do you think? What have you created today?
Do you take the time to notice Divine Order in nature?
I’d love it if you told me what you create from nothing – Share it with us!

If you’d rather listen than read, I get it, here you go:

https://soundcloud.com/jbertolus/something-from-nothing

Big love,
Xox

If We All Believe It, It Must Be true.

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Dear Airplane,

I love this arraignment that we’ve all agreed upon.

YOU somehow achieve significant aerodynamic lift; enough to propel us through the sky, from point A to point B, and I sit in my chair in the sky, eating the peanuts, holding the belief that all of that scientific shit is true.

Come on.
Can we cut the crap?

Clearly, air travel is some crazy magic or a freaking miracle.

The sheer accumulated weight of all the passengers and our consistently overweight luggage (I can only speak for myself)
render all that science shit impossible.
Really.

Airplanes work because we all believe they do.

Amen.

*This is for all my friends that are on planes this weekend 😉
Happy Saturday.

Sending miracle Inducing Love,
Xox

Is Life Rigged?

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Live life as if everything is rigged in your favor.
~Rumi~

OMG. THAT is my new mantra. What if we all did that?
We’d walk differently in the world. I know I would.

Like a card shark at the Blackjack table. If he knew the game, the deck, was rigged in his favor, he could just sit back, and relax. No more counting cards, no more strategy running though his mind……..no more fear of losing. He’d know, that no matter how it seemed, as the cards were dealt, that the game was rigged in his favor, and he’d bet…….BIG.

There would be an ease, a facility to things. Life would have a lovely flow.
We wouldn’t worry about each day so much, or how shitty things may appear in the moment. “It’ll all figure itself out”. We’d say “you know, it’s rigged in my favor.”
“Well, that’s funny, because life is rigged in my favor too” the person next to us would reply. And that would be okay. Because there’s enough good, enough money, enough love to go around. No one else has to lose when we win.

Using the Blackjack analogy, the player would win big, but the house could cover the bet. It makes money on food and shows and liquor and such.
There’s enough. There’s always enough.

So live life like its rigged in your favor. Bet BIG on your success.

Question: Would that take the fun out of the game (life) if you knew it was rigged for you to win? Interesting huh? Maybe the challenge isn’t so bad. I’d really love to know what you think, tell me!

Xox

Ask To be Adored

Ask To be Adored

ADORE
a·dore
əˈdôr/
verb
1. love and respect (someone) deeply.
synonyms: love dearly, love, be devoted to, dote on, hold dear, cherish, treasure, prize, think the world of.

My life changed forever when, as a 40 something woman looking for a prospective mate, I had the audacity to declare ” I want to be adored”

I told all my friends, and as they nodded and smiled their faux-supportive smiles I could see in their eyes, “Yeah, good luck with that”.

This new realization had hit me as a supreme and long overdue “Ah Ha” moment
after yet another 4+ year relationship crashed and burned.

Following my divorce at 25, I had actually fallen in love more than once, and as the years marched on, so did the list of dates, lovers, and boyfriends.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining they were all great guys. Some were younger than me, others were my age; some were artistic and wildly creative; others cerebral, funny and loving. (Are you feeling sorry for me yet? Yeah, don’t. Not yet. Wait for it.)

They were all very different, not at all alike.
The only commonality they all shared was how they ended our relationship.
The words that I heard at the end were always the same:
“You’re amazing, I’m just not ready”.
You’re the best girlfriend I could imagine”.
“Some lucky guy is going to grab you. Just not me.”
” I should probably never leave you, I’m sure I’ll regret this”
But…

Then they all walked away.
Some of them ran. One took a jet.

When the last one left I was around forty years old. (Which everyone knows is  too old to be dumped by  boyfriend.)  I could see that I had to change my relationship recipe if I wanted love to last. There was an ingredient missing. One component with the shelf-life of warm chocolate cake. By the time I even got a whiff of it—it was gone. Which explains why it took me awhile to come up with the word. And when I did, it was audacious.
I wanted to be adored!
Cherished, respected, treasured, thought the world of, and dearly loved!

I knew guys were capable of it, I had seen it in their faces when I suggested throwing away a favorite old flannel shirt, or their college baseball jersey.
They would grab it away and hug it close, eyes filled with…adoration.
I wanted the next man’s face to reflect that look back…to ME!

It was no longer acceptable to me to be so easily disposable.
I realized I was more like the stuff in the box that goes to Goodwill.
Easily Forgettable.

Fuck that!
I wanted to be the flannel shirt!
Instead of jetting out of my life I wanted to hear, “Out of the question, she stays! I would rather lose a limb than be without her!”

It takes a special man to adore a woman.
He has to have overcome his own broken heart enough to recognize your awesomeness, been vaccinated against that fear of commitment bug  in order to let his guard down, and then YOU  have to be willing to do the same.

The payoff for that level of vulnerability will be the look in his eyes.

The reason I’m sharing this is that it is possible. For me it became essential.
And after that realization, the audaciousness paid off.  I found it, and you can too.

Everyone has the right to feel cherished and treasured and held dear!
You just have to have the audacity to ask for it.

Now, adoration is pretty heady stuff, so your next task it to make sure you are someone who is capable of accepting it. I know who you are so I’m not worried.

Seeking adoration doesn’t happen overnight, but you can start now.
Xox Janet

Abracadabra!

Abracadabra!

I love this!!!

Hi, I’m Janet

Mentor. Pirate. Dropper of F-bombs.

This is where I write about my version of life. My stories. Told in my own words.

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