spiritual

in·tu·i·tion
noun
1.
the ability to understand something immediately, without the need for conscious reasoning.
“we shall allow our intuition to guide us”
synonyms: gut feeling (I added that) instinct, intuitiveness

“Can you use that word in a sentence please?”

Isn’t that one of the questions spelling bee participants ask?
I love the sentence Dictionary.com came up with: We shall allow our intuition to guide us.”
Wouldn’t it be great if we all REALLY did that?
I’d like to live in THAT world!

When’s the last time you said: I shouldn’t have trusted my intuition? 
Probably never.
Here’s why: Intuition is your internal GPS. She hold the maps, she has all the directions.
Your intuition has access to all your wisdom, all your talents, all your hopes and dreams.
Even the ones that are buried so deep you don’t acknowledge them or show them to the world.
Then, she has access to wisdom and talents that YOU didn’t even know you possessed.

The thing with intuition is: she’s got your back.
You have to really know that in order to trust her guidance, 
because when you can quiet the bullshit, she will be your North Star.
She will guide you to exactly where you should be.
Where you need to be.
You just need to listen.

Intuition is that voice that keeps repeating.
It is calm but insistent.
You’ll try to talk yourself out of it, there doesn’t seem to be reason to its request.
Sometimes it doesn’t make sense.
OFTEN it doesn’t seem rational.
That’s the thing, it isn’t reasonable, it isn’t rational, it’s intuition.

Mothers have it IN SPADES!
“Check the baby”.
Calm, but insistent.
“Check the baby”.
There is no mother on earth that ignores that voice.
They go check the baby, damn it!

Intuition has conviction, it has that knowing.
I’m going to add that to the definition: having a knowing…just KNOWING something.
There’s never a question mark at the end of the request.
If the thought starts with “should I “? Or “What if”. That’s not intuition.
It says without a shadow of a doubt “Don’t marry that man”.
End of discussion.
Shit! We know that voice is telling the truth, we just don’t want to hear it the night before the wedding.

There are some people that risk looking foolish to obey their intuition.
People get off planes that then crash.
There are the stories of people that didn’t go to work, didn’t go back in the building or were “late” on 911.

“Get that mole checked”
That’s intuition. It’s not asking you, it’s telling you.
Whether it’s telling you to get off a plane, see a doctor or leave the ass hole at the altar. It’s trying to guide you and possibly save your life.

My husband and I follow intuition’s instructions every time we get on the motorcycle. We’ve gotten really good at it; because we want to live to see another day.
On our long distance trips we schedule a stretch break every two hours so our butts don’t permanently fall asleep.
Several times, just because one of us has gotten that “hit”, we have pulled off a road to check a map or get a coffee way ahead of time, and it has saved us.

I can remember two times in France. Once we missed a ten car pile up by about a minute. Another morning we left early, just before a sniper opened fire from a bell tower, on the plaza where we were staying in Tours. If we had stuck to our original time, we would have been having coffee…in that plaza…at that time. Guaranteed.
I’m not kidding, we are probably alive because we deviated from our plan, we both had a gut feeling to leave early.

In March of 2010 on Oahu, my friend was teasing me because I was convinced there was going to be a tsunami. I was drinking umbrella drinks and obsessing, so he Googled the frequency of tsunamis in the Hawaiian islands.
Rare.
Didn’t matter.
I heard the voice that kept saying very calmly, but insistently: there’s going to be a tsunami. If Oahu had been an airplane, I would have grabbed my carry-on and gotten off.
Well, it never occurred, we left the next day and I forgot about it.

The next year my husband and I were invited to Maui to stay with friends.
On the drive from the airport to the condo, there’s that voice again.
“There’s going to be a tsunami”.
So I blurt it out over the bad music on the radio.
We then had a spirited debate on which was more likely to happen, a tsunami or a giant volcanic eruption? We both end up on Team Volcano, because THAT makes sense.
It’s reasonable and rational, unlike a tsunami…and we forget about it. 
I do have to say, I did pay attention to the fact that we were six floors up. I know I wouldn’t have stayed beachfront. No way.
So you can imagine my husband’s face when 10 days later CNN breaks in with coverage of the huge Tsunami in Japan, and a few minutes later all the Islands are put on Tsunami Watch! 
Intuition had my back. She had OUR back.
She just had her dates wrong the first time, she was ahead of herself by one year.
Or was she?
XoxJanet

When I forget this, I get scared.
Another one I like is from Esther Hicks/Abraham: Things are always working out for me.
Doesn’t that just make your shoulders come down off your ears?! Deep breath…
Things are working out, everything will be ok.
Carry on.
XoxJanet

“As you begin to take action toward the fulfillment of your goals and dreams, you must realize that not every action will be perfect. Not every action will produce the desired result. Not every action will work. Making mistakes, getting it almost right, and experimenting to see what happens are all part of the process of eventually getting it right.”
– Jack Canfield

Nevertheless, I am willing; has become my mantra these days.
I’m going to have it embroidered on a pillow, get it tattoo’d and have a t-shirt made.
All to remind me that no matter what happens…I signed up for this.

Eventually a girl’s gotta hunker down, keep calm and carry on.

Eager=willing
Free=willing
Eyes wide open=willing
Open heart=willing
Vulnerable=willing
Trust=willing
Ready to succeed or fail=willing
Belief=willing
Writing every day=willing
Putting yourself out there=willing
Telling the truth= willing
Being accountable=willing
Love=willing
Surrender=willing

There are obstacles that can and will surface and that’s where Nevertheless comes in.

Things may be tough, nevertheless.
People may not believe in me, nevertheless.
There will be haters, nevertheless.
I may stumble, nevertheless.
There will be mistakes, even failures, nevertheless.
There may be debilitating doubt, nevertheless. 
These obstacles are surmountable because
I. AM. WILLING.

It makes me feel like a warrior on the battlefield,
I AM WILLING my battle cry.
I’m invincible.
I’m freakin’ Braveheart, with half my face painted blue!

Nevertheless, I am willing.
I love it so much, I think I may sky write it as well.
Look for it!

XoxJanet

You all know the feeling. It starts in your stomach, maybe as butterflies.
Travels up to your heart, which then accelerates to Mach 1 pace.
Your face may start to get hot, your hands probably tremble, my lips buzz!
Is that excitement…or fear? 
You gotta be clear!

Almost plowing into the back of the car in front of you on the freeway, and waiting to find out what’s behind door number one, FEEL the same.
Speaking in front of a thousand people, and walking to the electric chair do too!
Your brains got to inform your body, because your body doesn’t know the difference on its own. 
Crazy, but true.
Since the beginning of time, all the same hormones flood your body, trying to get you to run back to the cave.

A good friend’s five year old used to tell her he felt “scared” on the way to Disneyland or a birthday party. He associated all his physical symptoms with the big, loudly barking dog next door. He was terrified of that dog, and so on the ride in the car, to the “happiest place on earth”, he was feeling anything but, labeling his excitement as fear.

Some of us still confuse the two as adults. We probably didn’t verbalize our fear when we were kids, I know I didn’t, it was the 60’s, children were “seen and not heard”….”Martini anyone?”

If your brain lets your body know: Hey, this is a good thing. I choose to be here.
You will save yourself a ton of grief.

I have another friend who hates any kind of surprise. She hates the way that rush of adrenalin feels at the reveal. She’d just as soon be shot out of a cannon, than to endure a surprise party. We had her first and last party at 21. When the lights went on, and we all yelled surprise, she peed her pants, cried hysterically for 15 minutes and then got absolutely shit faced drunk, just to stop the shaking.
Good times!
Excitement or fear?

Here’s the deal, both excitement and fear contain the element of anticipation. 
It is the adrenalin trifecta!
But, YOU have the choice of what label to put on a situation. 

So, you can anticipate the worst, a horrible death in a fiery crash or anticipate a wonderful tropical vacation.
Same plane flight.
You can tell yourself you’re the luckiest person in the world to be winging your way to Hawaii for ten days. You can be so appreciative of air travel and the fact that you can get across the ocean inside of a day, instead of two weeks at sea. You can start to anticipate your first Mai Thai instead of sizing up the people in the exit rows and trying to gauge who in the flight crew will deploy the rafts.

Give your feeling the appropriate name.
Use the anticipation to your benefit.
Let it help your body navigate the rush.

When you’re watching the movie Halloween Part 25, and your heart is ready to jump out of your chest; in order to live through it, you just tell yourself:
This situation isn’t real.
I’m in no danger.
I choose to be here.
That’s the agreement we all make when we walk into a theatre.

I’m embarking on several new things in my life this month.
At times I’m the five year old in the car, on my way to the party, feeling afraid. 
Then I remind myself; that feeling’s not fear, its called excitement.
There’s no danger here. 
I chose these adventures, this anticipation is a good thing.
This planes not going down, and I’m definitely NOT running back to the cave. 
Whew!

XoxJanet

This savage heart is wild and un bridled,
wanting things that can’t be named.

This savage heart behaves like a child,
running barefoot and untamed.

This savage heart won’t choose the road,
that the other hearts have tread.

This savage heart won’t make it easy,
it won’t let itself be lead.

This savage heart is filled with passion,
that drives it forward hard and fast.

This savage heart will daily command me,
inside this life which I’ve been cast.

This savage heart will go on beating,
until all desire is a thing of the past.

This made me laugh! Happy Sunday!
XoxJanet

“Someday you are going to realize there is a tremendous difference in knowing the path, and walking the path”
Morpheus to Neo ~The Matrix

I hate to do this, but if you want to be caught up, you’re going to have to go back and read Parts I-III.
I’ll wait.

Ok, so now you have some of the back story.

This installment starts in late November 1993 and I’m going for my second session of “energy work” with that little Tasmanian devil, T.
I’ve wised up enough to realize this work has absolutely nothing to do with alleviating tension and sore muscles.
It is a “soul massage”. It is releasing very old and “stuck” cellular memory, in order to give my soul a cleaner slate. I didn’t have a full grasp of why that was a good idea, but like most things that were happening to me at that time, I was just “goin’ with the flow”.

T incorporated acupuncture needles this time. TONS of them. I had them all over my body. My face was covered, down my spine and the bottoms of my feet, which freaked me out. What if there was an Earthquake and I had to make a run for it?
When he was working on my spine, I started to feel very anxious, like an anxiety attack—so I told him to stop. With one wave of his hand, I felt better.

Shit, Where was this guy when I was getting my divorce?

After my previous session, which was my first, I became quite ill.
This time, I lost my mind.
Well, just a little at first, but I’m someone who REALLY likes feeling normal, and as I left normal far behind me in the rearview mirror, I shut down.
But first I got weird and kinda desperate.
I had read that putting pennies (copper) in your shoes could help ground a person, so imagine if you will, me at work with pennies taped inside my Jimmy Choo’s and Manolo Blahnik’s.  It didn’t help. I was out of clever options. Could a tin-foil hat be far behind?

Work…yeah, that was interesting. Thank God I ran the place, so I was there alone 90% of the time. I literally would be “out” of my body all day, every day. To the point that I would forget how to answer a telephone. Not what to say… I didn’t know how it worked! It would ring, and I’d stare at it, like someone from the dark ages seeing modern technology for the first time. Same thing with the fax. I also had trouble reading English.

While I was “out” I was freezing cold, but each day for I’d say a half-hour total, I’d pop back “in” for a visit. I could feel it start at the base of my spine with a warmth that would radiate to the top of my head. Once it got there, Me, the 20th century Janet, would be back!
That’s when I made sure I would listen and return the phone messages, and read whatever needed my attention. Oddly enough I have no memory of a single customer interaction. I know that can’t be true, this madness lasted for over three months, but apparently, I was able to fake sanity convincingly.

I was so afraid of getting fired or driving a car when I was “out” but my team, yes, I had a little team around me now, with T acting as the leader, and he assured me that the state I was in (Samadhi) was so sacred, that no harm would befall me.
Sacred Shmakred. But it never did.

When I wasn’t an emotionless zombie, I was suffering epic, massive anxiety. Fear was my constant companion.
I know, hot mess…enlightenment isn’t elegant. (More on that later)

I had one foot in this world, and another foot…somewhere else. Somewhere far, far, away, where I was assured I was needed.
My opinion was, hey, I have this perfectly good body right here, right now, I want to be present! So I fought the process. Tooth and nail. No flow going for me! I struggled every second of every day, and THAT was causing all my suffering.

You don’t fight Samadhi, you embrace it, or so I was told.

Nights were hard. I lived alone, for which I was partially grateful. On one hand, I didn’t have to make excuses for my behavior, but I felt extremely isolated.

God, nights are sinister.
I’d never really noticed that before. They are excruciatingly looooong and so damn black, so damn all the time in the winter!

T did his energy work on me, sometimes several times a day if I was particularly uncomfortable.
With him came that same bone dry bedside manner.
I remember, one day, laying on the bed, saying all I could see was black, and screaming that I couldn’t breathe.
Me:(gasping dramatically) I’m gonna die!
T: (calmly, almost bored, while thumbing through a People magazine) You are in Bardo, every cell in your body can breathe, not just your lungs, ask your whole body to breathe for you. How about if you quit fighting it? Surrender.
Me: I’m dying!
T: Then die.

Looking back I realize his calm nonchalance saved me. I can’t imagine how scared I would have been if he had been freaking out also. I’m convinced that that’s the best way to be in these situations. Calm and reassuring, not at all emotionally invested.

If I had smelled ANY fear on his part, I would have lost it…more than I already had.

The team was concerned that if I didn’t lighten up and “throw up my hands like I’m on a roller coaster” that the energy would fry my circuits. Everyone agreed, fighting it was not serving me.

“This is your new normal,” they’d insist.  “There’s no going back, you can’t un-know something, once you know it”

Shut up! And what does that even mean??

I swear, some of the people that look homeless and crazy on the streets, I’m convinced have never learned to ride the roller coaster. I feel for them, I really do.
I bet they have pennies in their shoes.

My friend at work, Sally, was the only person I confided in. She didn’t judge, even though it looked to her like her friend had flipped her lid.
When I felt particularly bad, I’d walk by her booth and we’d make eye contact.
Then we’d both throw our arms in the air and go “weeeee” and I’d feel a little more human and understood. She rode the coaster with me.

I’m making it sound like it was all hell.
It was mostly hell, but Samadhi brings with it some interesting party favors.
I think that happens to keep you engaged because every fiber of my being was checked out.
I did have some mystical, magical, miracles happen during that time.
Those will be next.

(To be continued)
XoxJanet

Both feet have to leave the ground to leap.
Shit!

….and therein lies the rub.

We seldom feel like we’re ready….it just isn’t the right time…not yet.

What the hell are we waiting for?
An illness?
Divorce?
The empty nest?
More diplomas?
Losing a job?
More zeros in our bank account (Ahhh, now I’m getting warmer) but how many are enough?

How about PERMISSION?
Word from God-on-high that all systems are go, and you’re ready for launch.
That’s what I want.
That’s what we all want.

But you know what you guys? We’ve got that. We have our internal guidance, our intuition, our gut, to let us know when we’re getting close.

We’ve all been there. You get that restless feeling.

You start asking life WAY too many questions.

You feel as if you can’t do that thing you’ve been doing for one-more-minute.

That to me, signals one foot off the ground.

Then I have to suck up every ounce of courage to trust those signals, and
Lift. The. Other. Foot.

Permission is Grace’s secret weapon.

If you give enough value to the signs, the synchronicity, that jumpy little feeling in your belly, and you turn away from the fear and doubt and really show up for yourself; you grant Permission.
Permission’s bodyguards, Faith and Courage, then clear the path for Grace to enter.

Then you know what Grace does?
She lends you her hand and helps you balance…
so you can lift your other foot to leap.

Xox

“The only currency in this bankrupt world is what you share with someone else when you’re uncool.”
~from the movie Almost Famous~

I love that line. It’s delivered by the disheveled, “uncool” underground DJ played by the late, great Phillip Seymour Hoffman. He drops that little truth bomb on William, the 15 year old who is touring with an up and coming band, trying to capture their story for Rolling Stone magazine.

I can relate to that…now more than ever.
I am the un-coolest blogger in the blogosphere, THAT I know for sure.
I’m not really sure why I got the “hit” to blog, I’d never even read a blog before I 
started my own a year and a half ago. I just got the urge to go public.

Confession: When I look at the other blogger’s sites, I just want-to-die…of un-coolness.

When a blogger “likes” something you write, it is only polite to go check out their site. Even more so if they start to “follow” you. 

Some of these people are kids! But they have got it more together than I EVER will!
15 year old girls have blogs that link to their websites. These websites have so much content, it looks like they cost $30,000! They have paid advertising and products for sale, some have books.
WTF? At 15, I had pimples…end of story.

There are incredible 20 something fashion bloggers with tens of thousands of followers, one Italian street fashionista has over 10 million!
There are all these badass photographers who take amazing photos from exotic locals all over the world.
There are ridiculously talented writers and poets. I mean seriously good.

Then there’s me.
Almost 56 year old me, who lives in the burbs, sings musical theater (gleek), rides on the back of a motorcycle and writes about spirituality, life, and and
occasionally I throw in a poem.
I send these musings out into the world every morning. I post them, I tweet them and Facebook them, ( which I’m sure is SO last Tuesday) wondering if anyone reads them.

But every now and then, something will resonate with one of the “cool kids”
and they’ll email me, (They never leave a comment; too un-cool) to tell me it touched them or made them laugh.
They encourage and push me. They tell me I should vlog (video blog) and suggest I self publish.

Whoa, cool kids, let’s take it slow here, I’m just getting the hang of this stuff.

I do have to say, the spiritual blogosphere in general, has such a generosity of spirit. They are a community that embraces everyone. It’s where the cool kids dane to talk to the uncool, and give great advice. They are big hearted smarty pants’ who talk the talk and walk the walk.
I’m starting B-school with Marie Forleo in March. It’s an online business school that all the cool kids suggested, and which I’ve been stalking for a couple months.

I can’t even imagine it now, but I’m cautiously optimistic that I will be just a smidgen cooler come May.

By then I’ll be privy to what all the cool kids know. 

Note to self: stop using words like “smidgen”. 

I’m afraid I’m just terminally un-cool.

XoxJanet 

There are other professions in the world, besides therapist and psychologist, that lend themselves to hearing other people’s problems, and maybe or maybe not, dispensing council or giving advise.

Priests comes to mind. They’re lucky. In their confessional, they are provided anonymity, although I could always recognize their voices, and I’m sure they knew mine. They could pretend to sit, void of judgement, as I confessed to hitting my brother, their smirks hidden behind a dark screen. When they asked me why, I always answered: because he’s incorrigible, which is a word I heard used at home to describe him.
I do think the darkness, their half hidden faces, and lack of eye contact, did help the ladies who went into the box before me. They stayed for what felt like hours! They must have had much juicer sins than mine, and truly sought his council and forgiveness.
I was ten, I was just going throughout the motions.

My friends who have tended bar, got their ears bent nightly, big time! They may not have had a diploma on the wall, but by golly, they have HEARD IT ALL!
Since they were not sworn to any oath of confidence, and often copious amounts of alcohol were involved, they had the BEST stories!
Tales of love, betrayal, treachery, cheating, twins with amnesia, men as women, women as men. If it’s been a plot on a soap opera, they’ve heard it, ’cause that shit is REAL!

I on the other hand, have been in some form of retail most of my life. This has made it very easy for “those that seek advice” to find me. I was captive behind a supermarket check out counter in my teens and early twenties, where the inventive, provocative and hilarious confessions I heard when guys purchased condoms or tampons, or both, could fill a book. Believe me, I never asked, they just volunteered the information.

Later, I was behind a jewelry showcase, and most recently the desk at my own store. Over the years I’ve had many regular patients…I mean customers, who would come by to seek an opinion or get some advise. Some just wanted to vent….I guess I just have that kind of face.

Here is what I know for sure: Everyone’s got a story. Most are interesting, many are funny, some are heartbreaking.

When I was working in Estate Jewelry, the store was in West Hollywood, Beverly Hills adjacent. When those stories walked in, they were no different than everyone else’s, just dressed up with better shoes and handbags.

I sold antique engagement rings, or rather, because of their beauty, they sold themselves, but I stood and told their story. Fifty percent of the time, it was just the man looking. He wanted it to be a surprise. Because of his nerves and the unusual circumstance of buying an engagement ring, I heard their love stories, their hopes, their fears, and often way too much information! Over twenty years, I have literally held their hands to calm them down, explained women and what we want, and I have even told half a dozen men: Honey, you’re not ready to do this.
One sweet guy brought his beloved with him on the third visit, she was acting so ungrateful, spoiled and awful that as he left, I passed him a piece of paper that advised him to “run for the hills”!

Another situation I’ll never forget.
A woman came in to pick up her husband’s watch repair.
Now, it had been repaired twice before, and this third time was NOT the charm. 
We sold vintage watches, so they had to be wound and I couldn’t get the thing to tick!
Unfortunately, the woman was wound so tight she flew into a rage. She threw the watch against the wall, where it exploded into hundreds of tiny pieces, some even hitting her in the face. She called me and the store every curse word known to man…and then some.
Since our store was in an open mall sort of setting, the whole place could hear her, and everyone froze. So did I.
She stood there in her rage, her face red, her body trembling.
On life’s 1-10 scale of “How upset do I get about this”, the actual situation was a 3, maybe a 4. She was having a 25 reaction. THAT is always a clue for me. From working with the public for so many years, I can recognize that when the response doesn’t match the situation, there’s a backstory, something else is going on.
I slowly and silently walked around from behind the counter, and touched her arm.
I was shaking now too.
I gently pulled her out of view of the peanut gallery, and softly whispered, “what’s really going on here?”
She started to wail. That deep, low, wailing-crying that people usually do in private. “My husband is dying across the street at Cedars” she sobbed. I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I just hugged her…for a long time. Then we got on our hands and knees and started to pick up the pieces of the watch, just like she was grasping at the pieces of her disintegrating life.

I may not have been a professional, but this retail therapist knew better than to yell back or poke someone who was clearly on the edge. Thank God!

I know I’m not alone in this. If we deal daily with a large cross section of the public, 
we really do get the opportunity, no, the the privilege to get a glimpse inside people’s lives. Hopefully we have the sensitivity to respond not react.

Everyone’s got a story. What’s yours?
XoxJanet 
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