motivational

When swimming in shark infested waters
the best strategy is: Mind your own business, and don’t show fear, 
You may ask yourself how you got into these dangerous waters in the first place.

Sharks are found in a few different places: 
At the periphery of places teaming with joy and life, such as the stunning coral reefs,
or in deep dark waters where they never sleep.

They are opportunists, they seek those who have lost their way, who have strayed from the safety of the reef, or are all alone, out of their depth, swimming in places they don’t belong.

Throughout a life, that can happen from time to time.
It is always better to make a course correction before the encounter,
but inevitably along the way of exploration, you will find yourself swimming with sharks.

You can become mesmerized when you look into the cold eyes,
since you get no feeling reflected back from them.
They are not a mirror, but a black hole that absorbs your light, and your fear.
It’s okay, just look away, and keep on swimming.

When you encounter them, they are a sign you are out of your league, 
you have a correction to make in the direction you are headed.
Mind your own business, don’t try to engage, or cajole.
They are impervious to any feelings other than fear.
Fear they smell, fear they recognize, and with fear they
will become a danger.

Stay out of the deep end, although it may have a pull, the allure of waters unexplored.
But if you must go, remember what we’ve said, about how to swim with the sharks.

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.

On any given day I can come up with 3 or 4 topics to write about.
That doesn’t mean that they will ever amount to anything, and they may never see the light of day, but they are light-bulbs over my head, just the same.

Once in a while a piece will start to display iambic pentameter, and the words will fall into rhyme…so obviously THAT one will be a poem.

It never ceases to amaze me that a poem can fall out of little old 21st century me!
Poets in my mind are wild eyed, chain smoking, anti-social, angst ridden, recluses, that live in 17th century Paris or 1950’s Greenwich Village.
I am none of those things.
I’m white bread, Wonder bread really, what prose can Wonder bread write?

When poetry was given as an assignment in school, I would lobby for my parents to pick up our family and move to somewhere where the teachers were kinder, and realized their student’s limitations.
I’m sure I just over intellectualized everything I wrote, because that was my nature.

And as everyone knows, poetry doesn’t originate in your intellect!
As a matter of fact, your brain has no business, poking its nose into it!
Intellect does not compose good poetry. Intellect composes the essay you write to get into MIT, not poetry.
For that, you need to get to the heart, or better yet, the soul.

Age has helped me there. When you turn 50 you get your AARP card AND, if you’ve worked hard, and asked God really nice, a more direct route to your soul.
You won’t have to walk anymore dark alleys, or navigate a river of tears to get there.
You already have my friends, so…you’re welcome! 

The only thing God, or Source, or the Muse requires is that we share any and all
soul derived art or writing or whatever, with the world.
If you get stingy with your soul gift, it can get revoked. I don’t mean immediately, but the Universe runs a tight ship.
If you don’t suck up your courage and show at least one other person the freakin’
Haiku that you woke up and wrote, well…all bets are off!

That’s why I post a poem when I write it, on this blog.
I just close my eyes and push “post”.
It’s not my USUAL style of writing, (as if I have a “style”, ha!)
But what I’m finding out is I can be quite schizophrenic in my writing styles.
There are a bunch of voices,inmates,trying to break out of the asylum to be heard.
So I’ve decided: Who am I to deny them their long overdue freedom?

Have at it, you wild eyed poet part of me!!
Write your crazy, sometimes really poignant poems!
You know I’ll post them, because you, my creative new friend, I would miss you if you left.

“…there are four rules for miraculous work creation: Be positive. Send love. Have fun. Kick ass. 
Amen.” 
― Marianne Williamson, The Law of Divine Compensation: On Work, Money, and Miracles

A Master is the one who walks through the chaos and knows the answer.
A Master is the only one awake in the dream.
He is the silent sentinel.
He is solid as stone,
and flexible as willow.
He carries the key to every door.

A Master holds the secret, like the ace in a winning hand of cards,
but shows no expression.
A Master yells his message into the raging winds.
A Master stays cool in the heat of battle,
and warm under the iciest gaze.

A Master is the one who shall forevermore be called friend by his enemies.
A Master cries like a child at the death of innocence.
A Master is the one who walks thru fire to show the way.
A Master only sighs at night when the earth is still and it feels like rain.

I have a member of my family that is also a good friend.
I know that is about as rare as a Yeti sighting, but it does happen!

P. (not her real name, but a tantalizing clue) had an extended stay over the holidays and that allowed us to have a long, uninterrupted lunch.
Lots of girl talk, lots of gossip, lots of coffee, all the usual suspects.
Toward the end of lunch, P. (Have you figured it out yet)? did seek my counsel on some issues in her life, and after 2+ cups of coffee and an ice tea! I was circling the earth, so I was that much closer to heaven…and happy to oblige.

You see, I’ve known P. for 100 years…since we were girls.
As adult women, (eh) we’ve had many a late night bitch session over the phone, about crappy boyfriends, and difficult coworkers.

Once, when we were talking at about 12:30am about some schmuck that had stood me up that night, we were interrupted by my call waiting. Remember call waiting?

Anyway, of course it was him, and he was explaining how something had “come up”, but that now he was on the Freeway, and my exit was coming up, and could he “drop by”?
I was full of Cabernet courage, so I let loose with all of the things P. and I had been rehearsing for 2 hours.

How I wanted to be his “destination”, not just a “drop by, bootie call” at 12:30 in the morning. I also said that: “Not only were he and I not on the same page, we weren’t even in the same book”! 
He laughed…I hung up.

Then I switched back over to P. who had waited on the other line.
We howled with laughter at his audacity and the fact that I had actually said: “I want to be your destination”!! Baaahhhaaaa!
Hey…Wait a minute…That’s a great line! 

You can steal it.

Needless to say, THAT’S how close we are.

P. rocks at manifesting great jobs in her chosen profession, which is….( I can’t tell you, I’ll have to kill you).
Relationships…not so much.
This is all going to become relevant at the end, so take notes.

My advice to her, was to wake up and have Gratitude.
Start saying “Thank you” to the Universe, the minute you get up, even if you have to search for something to be grateful for.
Like your pillow,
Naturally curly hair,
Breathing,
A toaster to toast your toast.
Your yoga mat
A hot shower.
You get the picture.

Focus on what’s right with your life, not what’s wrong.

See, what happens is, when you go through your day offering Gratitude,
either things start to change….or you start to not care! Ha!
Plus as an added bonus, the Universe gives you more things to be grateful for.
Gotta love that!

I suggested she try it for a month.

Yesterday she called me beyond excited, she was having the most financially ridiculous couple of weeks she’d ever had at work. Clients were just throwing money at her! Large sums too!
They were easy, uncomplicated sales, which was not the norm.
They weren’t even disputing the shipping charges! WHAT?!
She was feeling both gobsmacked and flabbergasted! (Don’t you just LOVE those words)!
Me too!

Then it occurred to her that the only thing that had changed in her life was the Gratitude exercise, and she had to call me.

One last thing to mention.
When you do this alchemy with the energy of Gratitude, the magic finds the path of least resistance… The carpool lane.
It finds the quickest, easiest path to you.

With P., it’s her work. That’s the place that will always shift for HER first, because it doesn’t feel all pointy to her, like relationships do.

I’m holding out hope that the next call from P. will be from the wedding chapel in 
Vegas!

Can you figure out YOUR path of least resistance?
XoxJanet

People suffer when they pursue a life or chase a dream that doesn’t belong to them.
~Caroline Myss~

I can’t remember which book of Caroline’s this quote is from, but the truth of it just hit me like a Mac truck!
That’s why our train’s jump the track!
I’m sure now that’s why mine did!
Doh!!! (V8 forehead slap!)

Whose dream are we living anyway, when things crash and burn?
Our mother’s dream of a singing career?
Our father’s of an Ivy League education?
Maybe we just wanted to go to Paris and become a mime!

I suppose when I opened my store I thought that was my dream.
I would tell you it was, I’ve said it in this blog!
I had run a store forever.
I bought, I sold, I merchandised it, I did the books,
I should own my own… Right?

So when my soul stirred and I wanted to leave,
I told myself that my having a store of my own was my dream.
Only today did I realize that it was my boss’s dream,
Not mine.

He ate, drank and slept the antique and jewelry business, he still does, and that’s how you know it’s your dream.
I did not.
Don’t get me wrong, I worked like a dog, but I never thought of the store when I wasn’t there…ever!

He does…His dream.
It was my job, Not my life.
Shit! It’s so clear to me now!

Why do we borrow other people’s lives/dreams?
Because we do something for so long, we call a habit, a life?

A friend lobbied me to put my store behind hers.
She was killin’ it!, making money hand over fist, and had been for 8 years at that point, and she assured me that the same would happen for me.
It did at first, but it was a hard location, and ultimately a terrible decision.
Ironically, the location actually lead to its demise.

I suffered because…I was living HER life, trying to capture HER dream, in HER perfect location.
Of course it would feel terrible!

The business was my boss’s dream, a dream I stole to raise as my own,
and my friend’s success was because SHE was living HER perfect life!

I had never even taken 5 minutes when I left jewelry, to consider that my next step might not be retail.
I left the business to follow my heart, only I was looking in the wrong direction, so I never got the memo.

My ego took charge then, it usurped my better judgement and convinced me to pursue a life and chase a dream that didn’t belong to me.
Then when that didn’t work out, it convinced me I should go back to jewelry, which was STILL not the correct path.

Note to self: the ego gives really shitty advise!

If things aren’t working, if your life is like pushing an elephant up the stairs.
If everything you try turns to shit….and you’re suffering.
I don’t care how many years you have invested, or how many diplomas you have on the wall.
Sit down a minute and ask yourself this:
“Whose life am I living”?
“Whose dream am I chasing”?

XoxJanet

There are quite a few people around me who are reuniting with old family or friends. Awww, that’s so nice, right?
The interesting part is, the people that they’re getting reacquainted with are…dead.
Stop it! It’s still nice! And not at all creepy!
On the contrary, for them it’s been like picking up a conversation where it left off.
All warm and cozy and familiar, even though for a couple of them it’s been 25-30 years.

The veil between our two worlds has become very thin and transparent.
My intuition tells me that if you want to reconnect with “Uncle Bob” there’s never been a better time energetically, than now.
There is only one caveat.
If you’re interested in hanging with them, without getting the Grimm Reaper involved, you must match their energy.
This is tricky, but a lot of people are doing it.

Now, the dearly departed have left their bodies behind, and have merged with God, or the Universe, or for this, like the term Pure Positive Energy.
They seemed to have changed, they are the best version of themselves.
They have dropped the ego and are acutely aware of WHO THEY REALLY ARE.
They have BECOME that.
They have graduated, so to speak, and are free to visit the underclassmen.

What I’ve noticed with my friends, is that they have also graduated, in a different way.
They have reached a point where they also realize WHO THEY REALLY ARE,
but they didn’t have to die to get there.
They are leaving behind all judgements and guilt,,and getting into the ZONE.
They are lifting off of fear and worry, doubt and anger.
They are starting to be free and enjoy life.
They are doing that through meditation, or running, or sculpting or gardening, etc, etc.
Whatever floats their boat.
One even gets into the zone driving her car.

So…you’re just cruisin’ along and…Hello!
A visceral conversation ensues with your dad, or sister, or your best friend who passed.
You can actually “feel” their words.

Funny thing is, they were always there, waiting patiently for you to meet them, by remembering WHO YOU REALLY ARE.
They needed common ground.
Don’t worry about how long it took, 5 years is like a minute to them… trust me 🙂

And it’s no coincidence they’re stepping up to speak with you at this time.
Certain loved ones are very dialed in to where you are and what’s going on with you.
They have just the right thing to say, or better yet, a healing you can use right about now.

They can become your own personal angel if you let them.
Need advice, go for a run and ask “Uncle Bob”.
Get your hands in the dirt of your garden and “poof” your dad is there with an answer to a question.
I’m not kidding!
Don’t you just love that?!

Try it!
Sit and remember, you’re not just a soccer mom, or an accountant, or a bad daughter.
You are a spiritual being having a human experience!
Now go! Have a chat with your dead friend!

XoxJanet 

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

I love this!!!