spiritual

If our souls live forever,
marking time inside each day,
if we share in this endeavor,
then I guess it’s safe to say,
I will love you past the end of time.

As we share this mortal coil,
and we wear a suit of skin,
never stopping at the endings,
waiting for each lifetime to begin,
There, I will love you past the end of time.

Life may bring the next adventure,
we never know where it will lead,
I will wait for you, my darling,
I will not miss you, there’s no need,
for I will love you past the end of time.

JB to her beloved RB 

If life is a dance, I have two left feet.
Which of course makes it hard to buy shoes! Ha!
But if you’ve seen me dance, or do Zoomba, or even Tai Chi, you know what I mean.

Everyone else is moving in sync to the right, I’m moving, always with great conviction…to the left.
It’s just my nature.
Always has been. 
As much as I desperately want to avoid embarrassment, it is next to impossible for me to just blend in, to stay inside the lines, to behave and “dance” like everyone else. But, I really have tried, and it has been exhausting.

Just like I play my own soundtrack in my head, as it runs through my life (don’t you?)
I have my own unique, sometimes awkward and clumsy choreography; which I often dance alone. 
It may not be pretty, but it has gotten me here.

Every once in a great while, I’m supremely graceful; like the Prima Ballerina in Swan Lake.
I’m dancing around, up on pointed toes, with my neck long, and my arms fluttering slightly.
The only problem is, the rest of the world is doing a tap routine, and I look like an ass!

So, here’s the thing: I had a humongous epiphany after catching The Dead Poet’s Society on HBO a couple of weeks back. Damn! I had forgotten what a great movie that is, OR, I didn’t have the depth of character in 1989 to fully grasp it’s meaning. Probably the latter.

In case you don’t know, or can’t remember, it takes place in an elite all boys prep school, in the 1950’s. There’s a new, unorthodox English professor, Mr. Keating, who, among other things, has them stand on top of their desks to see the world in a different way. He also challenges them to call him “O Captain, My Captain.”

John Keating: “O Captain, my Captain. Who knows where that comes from? Anybody? Not a clue? It’s from a poem by Walt Whitman about Mr. Abraham Lincoln. Now in this class you can either call me Mr. Keating, or if you’re slightly more daring, O Captain my Captain.”

He is pushing these boy-men to embrace great literature and poetry, to become free thinkers, to question authority and buck convention. In other words, my Holy Grail!

Bear with me here, because it was this next scene that really got me.
He has his class assemble in the school courtyard, where, as an exercise in self-expression, he has them walk in a circle. A couple swing their arms, several stomp their feet, but soon they are all marching perfectly in time. Although they find it funny, Mr. Keating is proving a point.

We may start off marching to our own beat, but we soon succumb to the herd mentality. We all fall in step, conform, becoming part of that herd.
It’s encoded in our DNA.
Mr. Keating wants them to break that code, to consider being another way.
Perhaps, to even entertain the idea that it might be okay to go left, instead of right, to dance to their own untamed choreography.
Hmmmmmm. Maybe my feet aren’t broken after all.

John Keating: Now we all have a great need for acceptance, but you must trust that your beliefs are unique, your own, even though others may think them odd or unpopular, even though the herd may go,
John Keating: “That’s baaaaad.” [imitating a goat] Frost said, “Two roads diverged in the wood and I, I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.”

Amen, Captain, My Captain.
XoxJanet

I’m going to print this and put it up everywhere!!

There is a tightrope that lives at the edge of the cliff,
that spans to the other side.
If you fancy going any further, my friend,
the need for balance is implied.

To take a first step may terrify,
those among you that fail to comply.
For lack of fortitude, courage and balance, has caused,
Many a hopeful to die.

Their death isn’t really an ending as such,
it is merely another chance to try.
For energy doesn’t just disappear to dust,
It regroups for another ride!

Each time you arrive at the edge of this cliff,
with the tightrope firmly in your sights,
just take a deep breath, and don’t look down,
for that will trigger your fear of heights!

But if you let yourself glimpse down below, my love,
for more than a minute, you’ll spoil the plot,
you’ll see that there’s a net of gold, just beyond the edge,
and an angel has tied every knot.

So don’t fear what you see, and don’t understand,
or what is hidden in plain sight.
You’ll discover there’s help every step of the way,
that you can’t see when you put up a fight.

So run across the tightrope, please give it a try!
save your fear for another day.
Now that your know that you never really die,
you can more than live…you can play!

Happy Weekend! here’s another list of symptoms, that may accompany your open heart attack 🙂
XoxJanet

Authentic

au·then·tic adjective ə-ˈthen-tik, ȯ-

real or genuine

not copied or false

true and accurate
: true to one’s own personality, spirit, or character

How authentic are you willing to be? It’s my new obsession, but it can be tricky, because there are seemingly endless layers to authenticity.

I feel like I’m an open book, almost to a fault. I’ll tell anyone, anything they want to know about me. Have you read this blog? It horrifies my husband! In fact, my practice lately has been to dial down the TMI. 
Well…not on this page.

But is that authenticity?
Maybe because it’s easy for me, I’m gonna say no.
I’ll tell you with a laugh, that yes, I’ve farted in yoga; but I may not tell you the truth about your cheating-ass boyfriend, when you ask my opinion. Besides, when someone asks your opinion…they don’t REALLY want to know.

By definition, being true to yourself, accurate and genuine, are the hallmarks of being an authentic human being, but how do you navigate friendships, love relationships and jobs, when you’ve developed a permanent groove from habitually “biting your tongue”. 

I’m finding there’s an art to authenticity.
Expressing a truthful, but measured response.

Sometimes “No” IS a complete sentence; especially when elaborating could open Pandora’s box, or a can of whoop ass.
“It’s just not my thing” or “I’ve never been a fan of that” have saved my life.

I’ve been in retail sales all my life, and I made it a practice to NEVER lie to a customer just to make a sale. I know it pissed off my boss on numerous occasions, but again, if the earrings looked like shit, I steered them in another, sometimes less expensive, but more flattering direction. I know it was appreciated because they made a point to tell me so. A sales person who tells the truth is an anomaly, and it makes an impression.

Gently letting your best friend know that she’s too old to rock the leather mini skirt to the reunion, instead of being the kind of friend that just nods and gives a thumbs up, then turns her head and rolls her eyes. That’s SO not okay! And completely not authentic. A two second “wince” will save her hours of public humiliation, and having to see the pictures on Facebook for years to come. We MUST do this for each other, we MUST show up this way!

Here’s another layer: Our appearance…
In my obsession to live more authentically, I’m growing out all my blonde highlights, and I’m leaning into letting the whole thing finally be the color it’s been dying to be…grey.
I’ll still be getting a rockin’ haircut so I don’t look like Barbra Bush… I’m authentic, not crazy!

But how far am I willing to go with this?
Not concealing the dark under eye circles?
No false eyelashes!?!? 
No make up of any sort? (gasp).
What about nail polish? Spanx????? 
Is that authentic? Or just a cruel thing to do to the people that have to look at me everyday?

It’s kinda funny…or is it?
Are we just trying to “look our best”?
If we’re trying to look 30 when we’re 55, shouldn’t someone be giving us “the wince”?

Here’s my real struggle: Can I just let my chicken neck and my grandmothers hands, that are now at the end of MY arms, be the markers of my journey so far?
Can I /We be authentic enough to let our TRUE selves show up?
How would we be received by the world?
This is definitely a work in progress, so I’m thinking one small step at a time.

Here’s a sentence that goes to the heart of the matter and is really powerful:

IF I’M TRUELY MY AUTHENTIC SELF, WITH MY WARTS, FARTS, CHICKEN NECK, MY TRUTH TELLING, GOOFY, GREY HAIRED, MYSTICAL, PERFECTLY IMPERFECT SELF. AM I STILL LOVABLE?

I’ll leave you with that, talk amongst yourselves.

XoxJanet 

Okay! Now that I’ve got your attention!
In this month of the heart.
I’m not talking about the symptoms of a broken heart, or a dis-eased
heart, but rather an attack of another kind, that of an open heart.

What are the symptoms of a heart opening attack?
Can you guess?
Do you think you’ve felt them?
Let’s see…

Unprovoked crying.
You know the kind, sentimental commercials, cute babies, puppies. And for the brave few that can walk the earth this way; any exchange with another human being. A smile, a nod, just looking into another’s eyes, can cause tears. These are tears of recognition. You see the Divine in that person, and it touches you with its ET finger. and goes straight to your heart,

Grace.
Your life is dry without it. Your heart must be open to attract it. May be mistaken for luck or some innate ability. Don’t be fooled. Grace, true grace, helps you navigate a heart opening.

Generosity. 
When in the midst of a heart opening attack, you may feel unusually generous. You’re thinking money, and it can be about giving money away.
Dr. Wayne Dyer tells the story, that on one of his recent birthdays, he gave away cash all day. He was compelled to do it, and reported that it was his best birthday EVER!
But generosity has many faces Time is a precious commodity these days and we can all get pretty stingy with doling it out. How about sharing time with your spouse, your kids or a friend. Really being present, listening and laughing together can go a LONGGGGGG way!
It also assists in opening their hearts.

Bliss.
Un warranted bliss. Now THAT’S an advanced symptom.
Feeling blissfully happy…for no apparent reason. Giddy, slap happy, giggly, with a silly grin on your face…like the Dali Lama.
Yep. All symptoms of a heart opening.

Touch.
A kind of secondary symptom is wanting to touch people. In a good way, in a kind way, in a loving way.
Hugging, hands on shoulders, holding their hand, even touching someone’s face, which is sort of social taboo. Have you ever marveled at how soft another person’s skin is?? Even a man’s? That’s crazy, isn’t it?…And pretty wonderful.
A shaman once told me that it was important to be touched by another human being every day if possible. Otherwise your skin does not remain soft, it starts to harden.
Touching people in a kind way, is a sign you’ve really turned critical.
Your heart opening attack is in full swing!

Vulnerability.
SO great that this way of being is getting the respect it deserves these days.
Thanks to the daring Brene Brown and others, it is becoming okay, and even desirable to show vulnerability. The ability to do so, shows you are in the advanced stages of your heart opening. It is not to be taken lightly, and is not recommended for the faint of heart (ha!). Once you commit, you can’t go back. You won’t want to.

It is a far better thing, to feel these symptoms of a heart expansion, rather than the constriction that leads to the other serious kind of heart attack. They can actually feel just as scary and uncomfortable to the uninitiated, but take the ride, it is well worth it.

There are more.
Will you share some of your symptoms?
XoxJanet 

I hate going backwards. Period! In life. In love. In careers.
Here’s how it manifests in the most aggravating way in real time.

I had a stretch of time a few years back, maybe 7-8 years ago, where I was incapable of backing up my car without hitting something. Seriously.

Small poles and such at first, and then the Pièce de résistance (thank you French husband), I backed my SUV up and ONTO the hood of a brand new Audi S6, with my trailer hitch acting as a can opener, as up his hood I went!

All this at the holidays, in a crowded Post Office parking lot that is literally the size of a postage stamp…(aren’t they all)? Hence the reason I couldn’t hear that guy’s frantic honking over all the usual holiday, postage stamp parking lot honking.

*Side note: I’ve always thought car horns should have different sounds to express different emotions, (I feel the same way about ringtones on phones). One could be a pissed off sounding HEY! for all the Prius drivers; another sounds like clearing your throat, to just get someone’s attention, you know, after the light has turned green and they’re texting. Another is so high pitched that only animals can hear it, for all those cats and errant squirrels that play chicken with my car.

But the one I needed to hear that day was the frantic horn.
Hey!!!! Beeeeeeepppp!!!!! Hey!!!!! Laaaaaddyyyyyy!!!! 

Cool idea huh? You can steal it, just give me credit.
And send big checks.

Here’s the best part. I did it in front of my husband, who was in another car, eyes wide, mouth agape in disbelief, trying to look anonymous even though he had just kissed me goodbye for all the world to see. 

He was also laying on HIS horn too! See?!! Too much honking!
Geez! How’s a girl to think?

So I carry with me to this day, a fear of going in reverse.
I will do anything to avoid backing up. I will drive around the block for hours, to find a parallel parking space.

I get jittery and leave the Trader Joes parking lot if it’s too crowded, and the spaces look dicey. I will NEVER back out of a driveway onto a busy street.
I would just as soon leave my car there and buy a new one.

I’m just so afraid I will maneuver my can opener, I mean car, up onto another unsuspecting victim.

Because I’m so nervous, EVERYTHING is drawn to behind my car! Isn’t that just the way it goes?! The second my backup lights come on, all manner of cars,trucks,scooters, ancient grandmas and grandpas, dogs, cats, children in strollers, ladies in rollers, kids on skateboards, twenty-something girls on their cell phones, and expensive sports cars, magically and instantly appear, (and closer than they really are) in my rear view mirror!

Because of this fear I have become a magnet for the slow and unaware among us.
If I honk to alert them to my presence, they flip me off. Grandmas give me stink eye.

I watch other people with great envy that can just put it in “R” and zip carefree
backwards and out, into traffic.

Remember my list of the things I’m not good at? I’m adding this, somewhere up near the top.
Quit your snickering, you’re all so smug…you can join my husband.

Carry on
Xox

So, it’s the fall of 1993, and there’s some weird shit going down.
My meditations are turning pretty darn mystical AND
I just had the experience in meditation of having a voice yell
“We have an agreement”…twice.
Now you’re thinking; “That’s impossible, it must have been a neighbor, or the TV”….but it wasn’t.

Now, I blame the fact that I was bored with my life back then.
Good job, great friends, travel, no man, but the looking was fun, but I was constantly thinking; “Is this all there is? Day in, day out? There’s gotta be more.”
I was by no means miserable, just bored.

I needed some ZaZaZu. Well…be careful what you wish for, because the Universe knows ZaZaZu. It created ZaZaZu, and it opened a giant can of ZaZaZu on me…because I asked.

I covertly put the word out, that I needed some answers to all my questions about the crazy that was happening nightly at my apartment.
That sent me on a sort of back alley, spiritual wild goose chase, with tarot card readers, and psychics and every shade of “woo-woo” character right out of central casting.
Which led me to wonder: “Are these my people? Really?!”

I finally remembered my channel friend, who I went to see over the years for relationship problems. I called her to book a session. 
As far as she knew, it was more “Janet boy trouble”, and on my way over I worried that this whole thing was above her pay grade, so to speak.
So you can imagine my shock when she answered the door and said “Sit down quick, you DO HAVE AN AGREEMENT!”

Shut up!

The session went like this: “They” talked a lot about my agreement and my destiny.
It went a long time. Two cassette tapes worth. It got dark out.
I just sat there dumbfounded, and cried. It was the pressure, you have a lot to live up to, being told your destiny!
And I was hungry.

A couple of problems arose. 
1) Back in those days we recorded these readings on cassette tapes. I usually played them in my car, obsessively, searching every word for meaning.
From that day forward, the tapes never recorded for me again…ever.
When I played it, it was gibberish. One of my music/sound tech friends said it sounded like it recorded backwards, which is impossible…right? WTF?
Anyway, they were unlistenable. Later when asked, “They” said I had heard it, and they didn’t want me to overthink it. 
Problem was: 2) After about 12 hours, I couldn’t and still can’t, remember a thing they said that day…it just felt big.

My friend was pretty out of it after the session, but as I left she invited me to meet her guru, which she explained she never did.
A week later, I met her at a house in the Hollywood Hills.
There were snacks, there were tapes of her guru playing on the TV and there was a healer/energy worker there that everyone was all gaga over. I tried to see who he was, but I couldn’t over the groupies. Everyone seemed really nice and relatively normal, but after staying an appropriate amount of time, I started the steep descent, (in killer high heels) down the driveway to my car.

About half way down I heard someone running up behind me. He was barley five feet tall and extremely out of breath.  
“Where are YOU going?” he gasped.
“Um…home?”
“I’m T, I do bodywork at the Ashram up north, but I’m in LA for a bit, and you need some.”
He hands me his card. Funny thing was that a really serene woman up at the house 
had given me her card for some bodywork also. Did I have a neon sign on my forehead that said IN DIRE NEED Of BODYWORK?
Yes, the answer is – yes I did – to the people that read that kind of invisible signage.
He stared at me with his big blue eyes, trying to see into my soul, but I was suspicious, and access was denied.

Three days later, the thought of bodywork would not leave my brain.
NOW I know when that happens to really listen, but it took three days, back then, for me to get out the two business cards and decide who to call.
What’s bodywork anyway, I asked myself. I was convinced it must be a really killer massage. Haha! That makes me laugh so hard…NOW!!

The woman’s card was sweet and pretty and smelled like lavender, I swear!
I knew I wanted to go to her. 
Great! Decision made.
So I was taken aback when a man answered, and I recognized his Australian accent. Shit! It was T the Ashram healer guy!
I had NO intention of calling him. None!
And yet, that’s who I dialed! Freakin’ Universe!

My first impulse was to hang up, but I didn’t, I made an appointment for the next day.
(To be continued)

XoxJanet 

When war is no longer needed
To settle a score
No more banging of the drum
Or pounding on the chest.

When a father’s grievances 
his rage and fear,
hold no weight with his son
for it is not his fight.

When mothers take a stand
and say “No more”!
“You may not have my son”
to fight your needless war!”

When the land of the earth,
under the feet of these men,
will not tolerate division,
then they will understand.

There will be no support,
moral or financial ,
for such endeavors that kill,
in the name of God ,
or his brothers.

Then THAT will be true freedom,
not the one that binds,
not the one that wants to own, 
and imprison,
but another kind.

This freedom does not say
“this is yours and this is mine”
It shares all its diversity,
the sum of the whole being 
greater than its parts.

This day will come,
in the not so distant future,
let the energy support it 
it will be your best future,
and the greatest legacy 
to leave your children.