spiritual

I was discussing intuition the other day with someone I love.
I will call her: My sister. Yep, we had blabbed over salad, about the kids and my new class and we had worked our way to discussing intuition, you know, just like you all do.
I was reiterating how in my experience, intuition’s not loud, it doesn’t yell, it is never a question and it just keeps repeating itself, over and over.

She looked at me and said: How am I supposed to hear it, over that other voice in my head? The loud, snarky, judgy one, that says we shouldn’t order the cake.
Right?
Call him ego, call him the devil, call him whatever you want. He’s an asshole. Michael Singer in “The UnTethered Soul” refers to that voice as “The Room Mate” which I love. The ever present pest.

Here’s the answer. Short and sweet.
YOU ARE NOT THAT VOICE. You are the listener. Let that sink in.

Just tell that guy to: Shut the F up.
After he’s been on his endless, negative rant about my weight or my bank account or my age, I give him 10 seconds to say something positive, or he MUST shut up.
That’s a trick, because it’s impossible for him. Those words just don’t exist in his vocabulary and it renders him speechless.
Ahhhhh quiet.
THEN I can hear intuition’s voice.

I do it in the car, in meditation, in the shower and the bewitching hour…3AM.
My friend Sally and I did it on our hike.
We just demanded that that scoundrel: Shut the F up.
I’m sorry, but cursing is required here, he doesn’t respond to polite requests.
He’ll just call you a weak suck and criticize your grammar.
We then laughed through the rest of our walk.

Mind you, it takes practice and in the beginning he doesn’t stay away for very long.
He’s like a wild, untrained 8 week old puppy, peeing all over your hopes and dreams. He needs boundaries and it takes discipline. 
But we MUST, all, set these boundaries with the voices in our heads.

They are not us. We are the listener, we call the shots, we get to turn the channel.
This listener prefers the Positive Channel over the Worry Channel.
The Worry Channel has a 24 broadcast cycle with a huge audience, but it makes me sick…literally.
So now you know the secret. Cuss him on his way, and get some peace and quiet.

What’s the name of your pest? What tricks do you have to share?
Start a conversation in the comments, won’t cha?

XoxJanet

*This is a recent post by Danielle LaPorte DanielleLaPorte.com
I LOVE her. She is a rockstar, in my opinion.
I think this is so important right now.
Like, not in a minute, or tomorrow important, but right now important.
Unburden the soul, get lighter.
My list is at the bottom.

A Celebration of The Stop Doing List. 
On the path to defining your own version of success, what you stop doing is just as important as the things you start doing. Read that twice, please. Because this concept could change everything for you — if you let it.
Stop and… liberate.
What you stop doing is just as important as the things you start doing.
Everybody needs a Stop Doing List. Even a marketing genius, prolific author, vegan, philanthropist and all ’round smarty pants like Seth Godin. I asked Seth to get on the stop doing band wagon with us. He obliged:
I will stop:
Keeping score in games I don’t need to win
Keeping score in games I can’t win
Wasting time on people I can’t please
Ignoring the side effects of my personal choices
Giving into the resistance without realizing I was
Reading my Amazon reviews
Letting other people decide if I was doing a good job
Trying so hard when it came to persuading other people to change their minds
Making lists like this one. Except now
Cleaning industrial dough mixers
Walking into glass doors
Biking without a helmet
Cutting large blocks of Styrofoam while barefoot
Working for jerks
Here’s Danielle’s latest personal Stop Doing List:
I will stop:
Staying up too late when the truth is, I want to get up before sunrise and start loving the day.
Doing the laundry simply because it’s there. Write first, laundry can wait.
Acting like I love to garden and going all kale crazy. I don’t really love to garden. I just love snap peas and edible flowers. Simplify.
Picking a fight with snarly security officials at airports. They need love. And a lot of it. (I should generally go easier on people in uniforms. This will take some willpower.)
Bringing my nicest clothes to consignment stores, it’s so not worth it. And it’s much more fun to make my friends happy with a bag o’ style.
What will you stop doing? Like, right away.
Use these questions to create your new no’s:
Are you deeply passionate about it?
Do you feel you’re ‘made to do’ it?
Can you make a living at it?
If the answers come up meh, just kinda, and … no to – then you might want stop doing it. Shut ‘er down. Take it off your plate. Let it die. Cease. And exhale a sigh of relief. Now you can move with more velocity toward your dreams. That’s how this works.
Janet’s I Will Stop Doing List:
Dying my hair blonde
Saying “awesome”
Eating chocolate covered almonds and saying I had nuts as a snack.
Saying I am going to grow vegetables this summer…it’s never gonna happen
Subscribing to magazines I never get a chance to read (Hello January O Magazine, I’m talking to you)
Caring if other people think I’m doing it right.
Planning appointments at peak traffic hours, if I have the choice.
Picking up the dance and spinning class schedule at the Y, it just makes me feel bad.
Reading emails in bed.
Getting lost in Facebook at bedtime.
Eating raw chocolate chip cookie dough
Making promises I can’t keep^
Hiking without socks

*Yesterday I sent this to Liz Gilbert the author of “Eat Pray Love” , and asked her to share her list.
Her response: That’s AWESOME! (Whoops I said it!)

Unburden yourself. Send me your list in the comments.
XoxJanet

Be prepared to O. P. E. N your mind here.
I’m going to elaborate on this council I mentioned in the March 25th post.

Here’s what I’ve learned over the years, through various books, lectures and classes and what I now believe wholeheartedly.

I’m just going to save you the years of searching and condense it, humanize it and try to make it palatable.

You’re welcome.

As always,  the parts of this that resonate with you, set the rest aside. That’s what I always recommend. It’s how discernment works. And, it helps you fine tune your bullshit meter.

So, here goes. Since we are all infinite energy, we exist with consciousness, even when we don’t have a physical body. That is why death at that level, is just an illusion.
When we get bored playing around in the non-physical and we decide to take a body on Earth, there is a lot of responsibility that goes with the planning and coordinating. You can’t just come down without a purpose. As I’ve said before, there are no “extra” people wandering around down here.
Okay, we do experience amnesia, which makes things…interesting, kinda exciting, even an adventure. And without it, we wouldn’t play the game.

So…we’re thinking of taking a body again and all that entails.
The pros: An experience smorgasbord of:
Touch, feel, taste.
Sex
Emotions.
Personal interactions, relationships.
Endless choices
Just to name a few.
The cons: All of the above.
Add a dash of Free Will, and let the games begin.
That’s where the council comes in. It is composed of several souls that have such a vested interest in our plan, that they want to tag along. They very much need to be present at these “meetings” to coordinate just when and where they will make their
appearance. They may be the love of our lives AND the boss we can’t stand. Playing the parts that will help us the most to grow. Our parent’s souls are definitely part of that group. Enough said.

Then there are the souls whose job it is to help others plan their lives on Earth.

I think of them as the experts or the Masterminds. They may have never even had a life here, but they are the go-to source of all things Earth. (Which to me is like a priest teaching sex education, I’m just sayin’). But it works. They have an easy time being dispassionate. In other words, they don’t buy into the drama and the bullshit.

Also at the table, is the part of your soul you left behind. Often referred to as The Higher Self. The energy we are all composed of, is too huge to squeeze into this tiny body, so a large portion stays behind. It’s that part of us that has infinite knowledge, the smarty pants part of our souls. You can tell it’s your Higher Self a mile away, they cheer the loudest.
They all wear TEAM sweatshirts. TEAM JANET’S are red.
Seated next to them, are our Guardian Angels.
The bottom line is this: Everyone present wants to help us succeed with our purpose or plan.

Even if we don’t, they do check in at various times in our lives, to remind us of our path and give us love, support and chocolate. Most especially when the wheels have fallen off the cart and we are dangerously close to starring in our own TLC reality series: Living Bad Choices, Her Life As A Hot Mess.
Whenever I witness a complete 180 degree course correction in my life or someone’s close to me, I know the council had a hand in it. Bless them and their infinite patience and sense of humor.

All of this is done at an unconscious level of course, most likely while we’re asleep…or driving…or while our neighbor drones on about the snails in his garden.

When I was young, this all felt very “Big Brother” to me. Were they watching EVERYTHING? Did they see me in the bathroom or watch me try on bathing suits at Nordstrom?
But as I’ve grown older the thought of this council feels…comforting. Often, before I go to sleep at night, I give some thought and then set an intention as to what I’d like to discuss that night. If there’s a certain problem I want them to chew on for me, I just ask. I know they have the map of my life, all spread out, with the big picture. They know my purpose and the 17,000 different paths I can take to get there, and I trust them to show me the way. They are the voice of my intuition after all.

What color is your TEAM sweatshirt? Make a list of three topics you’d like the council to work on for you right before bed, then share the results with us.

XoxJanet

Thank you so much for all the lovely Birthday emails and comments. I love my blog family! And I didn’t bite anyone…one out of two.
XoxJanet

It’s my birthday today.
Yep, another year older, I’m game for that; it is better than the alternative.

Once upon a long time ago, a wise man told me that it’s very important to meditate on the day of your birth and to set an intention for the year to follow.

He also told a story that I swallowed hook, line and sinker, and it went something like: Either the night before, or the night of your birth, you go before a council, in your dreams. You then state your case as to the reasons why you should be allowed to remain on the planet for another year.

What will you add?

Will you move further toward your purpose, or stay asleep?

When he explained that to me over coffee and a huge dose of conviction –– I took it very seriously…and I still do.

I used to look around at the people who appeared to just be marking time, figuring their council session probably didn’t go so well. Until I realized, someone could be wondering that about me. Everyone’s entitled to have an off-year, right?

The older I get, the more I understand that this is not a dry run. This is the real deal.

You’ve gotta try your damnedest to find out why you’re here, and then get on with it.

What do you think you last told the council?

That you’re going to spend another year at that dead-end job, or in that abusive, loveless marriage?

That you’re not going to take that trip you’ve always dreamed about…again?

That you’re not going to take any chances…you’ll be sitting on the sidelines, playing it safe again this year?

How would that go over with them? I’m thinkin’ not so good.

We may be given some slack in our twenties, ’cause we’re newbies, but by now, we had better make a hell of a case for walking the planet for another 365 days.

I only get the privilege of being me this one time around. I’m not looking at blowing it.

Xox

Who does that? Whose got the time? Yet, those are still the directions on the bottle of shampoo. If your hair won’t come clean after one shampoo, you’ve got bigger problems baby.

Tags on a mattress: It is forbidden, under penalty of law to remove the tags. 
Who leaves them on?
I rip tags off of everything…immediately.
I once worked my way around a friend’s apartment discreetly removing the tags that were still on her futon, chair cushions, couch and pillows. I couldn’t help myself.
Was she just lazy or following directions, hoping to avoid the tag police?

What about waiting a half hour after eating, before going back into the ocean or pool. “You’ll get a cramp and drown”. That rule never made any sense to me. Maybe it did happen to Margie’s cousins, kids, nephew. Never mind that they didn’t know how to tread water, it was the bologna sandwich that did them in. So, our moms enforced that rule to-the-minute. As a kid, I could inhale my lunch in 2.5 seconds, so a half an hour was an eternity. But to my mom, that rule was law.

Some people follow directions to the letter.
For me, directions, tags, rules for games, most rules in general, are always just….a suggestion.
The ones I can’t get around, like flossing and taxes, I adhere to begrudgingly.

Maybe it’s America. So much fear of liability. You can be sued by anyone, for anything. It’s not that way in other countries.
That’s why I love the Italians. In Italy there is a kind of “live in the moment” attitude that renders laws and rules…obsolete.
To the Italians they truly are only suggestions. Which makes them my people.
I was in Rome for a couple of weeks when every day it was well over 100 degrees. They call that August. There are many, many gorgeous fountains in Rome. Each had a sign that basically said: Stay out of the fountain. But by the number of men, women, little kids, grandmas, dogs, even nuns; standing and splashing around, you would have thought the sign said: Come on in, the water’s fine! Even the politzia turned a blind eye.
Several years later I went back and the signs were down. Why waste good wall space? Godere!

My husband, who is also European, so maybe it’s in the water; has a motto that I’ve grown to love, and have adopted as my own: It is easier to ask forgiveness, than to ask permission.
Meaning, if you know the answer most likely will be no, if you know a rule is about to be broken, and no one’s getting hurt, just do it. Gasp… I know, I know. But there are so many joyful, playful, beautiful things in life that somewhere along the line became “not okay.” Some killjoy decided it was a bad idea to swim too soon after eating or rip a tag off a mattress or shampoo only once or splash in a fountain on a hot summers day, and they ruined it for everyone.

I’m not advocating hurting anyone, defiling public property, or acts of debauchery.
I’m just saying, it’s okay to color outside the lines, to find joy whenever and wherever you can.
Rules are made to be broken. Tear some tags. Laugh in a library. If there are no cars, cross the street just before the light turns green. Oh you rebel! And if you’re caught in the fountain, don’t be embarrassed, just smile and say: I’m sorry, it’ll never happen again.
Until next time.

XoxJanet
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I LOVE This!

Do you have lists, folders or a bulletin board full of things you desire?
I do. At my store I had an entire wall of cork behind the desk. It was 11 feet high. The entire surface was covered with pictures, cards, swatches, anything and everything I loved. Except for the very tippy top, because if I could reach it standing on my chair, so be it. If I had to get the ladder; it didn’t make the cut. Too lazy.

I dream big. Always have, always will.
I believe EVERYTHING is obtainable.
The extraordinary things I covet and the pictures I collect are just reminders for me.
I want it all!
Then reality lands on my head. And while he messes my hair, he whispers in my ear this loaded question:
Are you willing to do what it takes?
We all know deep down what’s required to achieve our dreams.
What changes, course corrections, sacrifices, hard work and amount of commitment will deliver them to us.
But will we only reach as high as the chair will take us or will we get off of our asses and get the ladder?

Are you willing to do what it takes?
We can ask that question of ANY situation. If we do, often the answer will be: not now, or I’m not ready, or flat-out NO.
Then we have no one to blame but ourselves when something slips through our fingers and that’s no fun.
Blame comes in handy. It deflects the shame.

Sometimes you think you know what you’re willing to do, but if you’d really known what it would take, you’d have packed your bags and moved to Siberia.

When I decided to buy a house I knew I had to put an end to my frivolous spending.
I was making good money and buying everything that wasn’t nailed down. I was a hoarder of all the finest things in life. But I could not continue to be that girl AND own a home. Not unless I learned how to turn shoes into gold.
I was sick and tired of greasing Uncle Sam’s palm with my tax money, and listening to my upstairs neighbor’s terrible music and bad headboard rhythm during sex.

I wanted a house, and I wanted it in a year.
I was 39 years old. Time was a wastin’.
But…Was I willing to do what it would take?
It had to be drastic. I needed to save $40,000 in twelve months. I formulated a plan, and jumped. Are you seeing a pattern in my life? I am.

I moved out of my 3000 square foot rented duplex, and put everything in storage. Then my two Siamese cats, their giant cat tree, and 1/3 of my clothes, moved into a 10 x 10ft. bedroom at my sisters with her husband and my two-year old nephew.
It was a toddler/cat free-for-all for this childless, terminally single girl.
Did I also mention that my 7 minute commute turned into one hour each way?
Oh yeah, now THAT’S commitment.
All the sacrifice, all fur balls and midnight cat fights paid off. I did manage to move out after exactly one year. It was a good thing too. My sister was four months pregnant with my niece by then and was going to need MY room.

As I write this I’m sitting in that very house, which I LOVE. I’m proud of myself for buckling down, behaving like grown up, and going after my dream.
Parts of it were fun, but I can’t imagine doing it again. Not in a million years.

I’ve worked two jobs, logged thousands of overtime hours, and passed on great vacation trips, as I’m sure a lot of you have, to get what I wanted.
I’ve learned how to be soft and vulnerable, while getting my heart-broken, in order to be ready for my husband.
Some jumps I’ve taken have failed.
A lot of what I’ve done, I’d never do again.
If I’d REALLY known what it would take, I may not have been so willing.
I think as time goes on you develop a kind of amnesia to the pain. It keeps you in the game.

Regardless, it couldn’t have been THAT bad.
It has all brought me here, and here, is pretty damn good.
So I say: Go for it.

XoxJanet

Ultimatums are rarely a good idea.
In life, in relationships and when dealing with the Universe.
When we are driven to taking this tactic, hands on our hips, lips pursed, loaded with attitude, wearing our bossy pants…we will lose.
And we’ve ALL done it.

Think about it, you have set your terms, made your demands and you are promising some kind of retaliation or an end to communication all together, if you don’t get the answer you desire.
First of all, that’s called emotional extortion, that’s a topic for another day.
Still, it seems like you have all the power… butcha don’t….Not really.

The final outcome lies in the hands of the receiver of the ultimatum.
It’s his call, he could end it all. Because YOU said so.

You know what the Universe says to an ultimatum?
“You’re not the boss of me”.

You know how I know that? Because it told me so.

Recently; like yesterday, I was giving the Universe my latest, in the long line of ultimatums I’ve been issuing, and that “voice” chimed in:
Me: So, here’s the deal, you’ve gotta do “this thing” or I can’t make all this other stuff happen.
Uni: Don’t give me an ultimatum, you’re not the boss of me, give me choices.
Me: What do you mean, choices?
Uni: Give me your three most preferable choices, in descending order, from best to worst. I’ll take it from there.
Me: Why would I do that?
Uni: To maintain your flexibility. It also allows us to throw you a curve ball. Something amazing, that’s completely unexpected.
Me: But I really, strongly, feel that it has to go down my way.
Uni: You are acting stubborn and misguided.
Me: Don’t sugarcoat it, tell me how you really feel…Shit…okay.

After that, I did come up with three scenarios that would work in that situation.
Funny, earlier I was convinced there was only one. So, I shot off a mental memo to the Universe, and sat back feeling relieved.
I wasn’t nervously waiting for the shoe to drop. Now I knew it could go any number of ways and that would be fine.
I DID feel more flexibility around my expectations.
I’m Gumby dammit!

Now I’ve got to go borrow a baseball mitt, gotta be ready for my curveball.
How about you?

XoxJanet 

So…I was in the middle of writing another post yesterday morning when the earth moved.
Actually, my wise friend said it yawned. I love that.
Just don’t swallow my house, will ya?
It’s all good.
The dogs got a bit jittery, one picture fell but didn’t break.
I say: No big whoop.

I couldn’t go back to my previous thought though, and continue writing the post.
I kept being reminded, for some reason of the 1994 earthquake.
This mornings was just a poor imititation.
January 1994 was as close to “The Big One” as I’ve ever been, and ever want to be.

Of the things that came to mind, several were kinda mystical, and some started me on the road to retrieving my sanity. I know, pretty dramatic, cut me a break here!

Back in 1994 I lived in a high rise in “mid city” as they call it. So as not to be confused with downtown or the west side.
It was dark o’clock. Just after four in the morning.
I remember waking up to pee and feeling a deep sense of calm and well being.
I distinctly remember those feelings because:
1) They were an anomaly. I was not having a good time. I was suffering horrible anxiety attacks and living on Xanax just to cope. (Read my We Have An Agreement posts. There are four, sorry)
2) The timing. It was like a warm hug of reassurance before all hell broke loose.

I won’t get into too much detail. Suffice it to say, the damage was extensive.
Every window shattered, my walls cracked open so wide you could pass the Grey Poupon into the next room.

The first mystical experiences I had, were part of my post quake hysteria.
I just wanted to get the hell out of my building.
The swaying from the initial quake and subsequent aftershocks was making me sea sick.
I grabbed my purse with my car keys and began my adrenalin fueled sprint down nine flights of stairs.
When I reached the covered garage, I pulled my car out for safety and sat shaking violently listening for any news on the radio.
Then my eyesight went.
Just like that.
It was perfect until the adrenalin wore off. Then I went back to being blind as a bat.
In my haste to escape, I forgot to put in my contacts or grab my glasses.
If I was going to drive or basically function at all that day, I had to run back up and get my glasses. Shit. 

I thought it might be a good idea to brush my teeth while I was at it. If I was going to venture out on the mean streets of “mid city” to forage for food and shelter, morning breath wouldn’t be an asset.
I was terrified to go back up, but I had no choice. When I got to my apartment ( I had left the door wide open) there were neighbors still wearing jammies in the hall. One of the men grabbed me by the arm to stop me from running back inside. He pointed at all the broken glass and then looked down at my bare feet.
He was nice enough with his flashlight (no electricity) and slippers to go inside and get me my glasses and a pair of flip flops. You could hear every tentative step, marked by the crunching of broken glass.
How the hell had I gotten out of there without a single cut on my feet?

Forget brushing my teeth, no water. Gum would have to suffice.

By the way, the neighbors on the opposite side of the hall from me, had much less significant damage. None of their windows were broken. They could not believe the extant of the damage to the apartments that faced northwest.
Earthquakes are similar to tornados in the randomness of their destruction.
Either it’s your lucky day…or it’s not.

My kitchen was a freakin’ disaster. It seemed every cabinet had opened and thrown its contents against the opposite wall. Not to be outdone, the refrigerator and freezer had gotten into the act as well. There was a ginormous pile of china, food and glass with a booze chaser on the floor.
Here’s where the mystical part comes in.
EVERY piece of crystal, china, and ceramics from my marriage was PULVERIZED.
Like the aftermath of a wild, drunken Greek wedding on steroids.
They weren’t just broken, they had reverted back into sand.
During clean up; there was NO salvage; my shaman friend pointed out that the cabinet just next to the “wedding stuff” had remained closed and everything inside was safe. It appeared that anything fragile that I had purchased in the ten years since the divorce was okay to stay. Anything from before that, was a total loss.
He reminded me that crystal holds energy, it holds memories, and THAT just needed to go.

As you can imagine I had to move. I chose a cute little ground floor garden apartment, all wood floors and bookcases. SO much better for my energy to be around wood. 
The steel and glass of the high rise had been messing with me. 
I started to feel better almost immediately.
That was part one of my sanity recovery.
Part two was the fact that I was no longer alone in my neurosis. EVERYONE was a nervous wreak.
I mean it.
EVERYONE in the city had a story to tell. Men told me how they couldn’t stop shaking. Women were all red eyed from not sleeping. They should have put Valium in the water, almost everyone I talked to was taking them like candy to navigate the daily aftershocks.
It was freakin’ awesome! 
Misery truly does love company I’m ashamed to say.
If EVERYONE is freaking out and you’re suffering panic attacks, you look downright normal.

Okay, one last mystical story.
Fast forward a couple of months.
I’m feeling better, I’m in the shower getting ready to go to a Buddhist chanting, 
and “that” voice says: You’re okay, you’re fine.
Me: yes; yes I am.
Voice: You’re okay, you’re fine.
Me: Um…thanks…good to know.
Voice: You’re okay, you’re fine.
Me: WTF?
Then it started. Very slooooowly. I actually heard it before I felt it.
Earthquake….In the shower…No!
One of my top ten worst fears realized.

But, of course I was okay, I was fine.
XoxJanet