trust

Anxiety is the “Dizziness of Freedom” – Kierkegaard

Oh Brother – This is a big one for me! I’ve struggled since birth, with the anxiety of missing out on something.

As a kid I had the nickname of Corkie. As the story goes, I could lift my head to look around soon after birth. Being that it was a tad early to be weighing my options, my neck muscles were too underdeveloped to be “working the room” so to speak, so my head was unsteady, bobbing around “like a cork on the water”.
So there you go.

I was born with the perpetual desire to see what else was out there, what other interesting things I might be missing out on. I wasn’t dissatisfied with where I was, it was just…

Curiosity squared.

It caused me enough anxiety that at 17 I started my exploration of meditation and being here now – in the moment.

That was a foreign concept and I’ve struggled with it all my life. I can report that I’ve gotten better as I’ve grown older.
Not grown up, just older.

I realize that I may not be able to see ALL the options available, but it rarely makes me anxious anymore.
I’m learning that the Universe has put the ones that are the most relevant to my path; that will excite me and bring me the most joy – at my feet and in front of my face.

Whew.

Does the fear of missing out cause you anxiety? How do you handle it? Is it getting better? Or worse?

Love, love,
xox

“Well, what will you do for money?” The fork stopped halfway to her mouth. Her eyes were huge, and the fear inside them was palpable.

“Nooooo, honey, you’re a jeweler, that’s what you do.” It was not a statement, it was a directive.

“What? Why? Now? You’re in your fifties.” Said by someone whose recent anthem had been: Fifty is the new Thirty.

Turncoat.

Those are just a few of the reactions I’ve gotten when I’ve been asked ‘So, what are you up to?’ And I reply “I’m a writer.”

I’ve said it before and it’s worth repeating. A lot, no, make that most – most people who ask you how you are and what you’re up to – they don’t really want to know.

It’s the amuse bouche of conversation – obligatory and unnecessary.

Which leads me to two important revelations ( bigger than insights, more important to remember than observations) that I’ve had about who I told about the writing in the very beginning; and I think they can apply to anything precious that you’re considering doing in your life.

NUMBER ONE:
Don’t tell just anyone everything. THAT can be considered an act of self sabotage.
That was a hard one for me because I’m about as opaque as Saran Wrap, but you’ve really got to be careful here.
How well do you know the person in front of you?
Are they safe? Meaning, do they have your best interests at heart – or an agenda?
I’ve had more amazing responses and feedback from strangers – on airplanes – than I have from the people close to me.
Probably because they aren’t invested in my old identity.
One guy recently responded “oh wow, that’s great; you look like a writer.” Whatever that meant. It felt like a compliment, but I’m thinking he got a look at my writer’s flat ass.

Advise in a nutshell – take a minute, and size up the asker.

Don’t divulge your new passion/ plans/ career choice/ to anyone who wouldn’t understand, may laugh, or potentially invalidate you – and you may get burned by a friend.
Just don’t get burned twice by the same flame. 

NUMBER TWO:
We’ve talked about this in our Wednesday night group because I’ve found this to be true WITHOUT FAIL.
Whatever insecurities and doubts I’ve had about any new venture I’ve undertaken (and this includes relationships) I’ve always been able to count on them to be mirrored back to me by some assbite naysayer.

So those responses at the top of the page?
Of courses those were my trifecta – of – terror.
Fear of the loss of income, abandoning my long-standing career, and starting something new at my age; lobbed back across the lunch table for me to justify…to myself really.

Because here’s what happens: when you have the mirror held up and it pisses you off, and your hackles go up; all your College Debate Team skills kick in, and you’re able to come up with graphs and evidence and flow charts, to prove to them – AND YOURSELF – why this is the best idea ever!

So how can you be mad? They did you a favor. I’m aware that I’ve played the naysayer role in other peoples’s dramas many times.

Now, I hardly get any blowback, because I worked out all the confidence kinks early on and I’m better at owning it.

I’m kinda a writer like someone in their eighth month is kinda pregnant.

Just be advised; if it keeps happening, your doubts are bigger than you think – or you may need new friends.

Remember: Don’t get burned by the same flame twice.
(I swear, we should all embroider that on a pillow)

As always, I so appreciate you reading and your comments below.
When have you had your insecurities mirrored back at you? Have you gotten burned by revealing too much to the wrong person? Was it a friend? Or family?

Thanks loves,
Xox

“Miracles are like meatballs because nobody can exactly agree on what they are made of, where they come from, or how often they should appear.”
― Lemony Snicket

Hi my loves,
Here’s another WTF Friday miracle story. And it’s a GOOD one.
It’s been in my head, writing itself for days. I haven’t thought about it for over twenty years so it’s persistence proves to me that it’s a tale that wants to be told.

It shows how the Universe will take care of us NO MATTER WHAT when we are on our path. 

That being said, I will endeavor to tell it as I remember it, without embellishment, exactly as my mini Yoda, pocket-shaman relayed it to me.

He told me the story one rainy afternoon as he was brewing a pot of something that smelled like a combination of the bottom of a cat box and the inside of my high-school gym locker. He would roll his eyes and stare at me with complete exasperation, as I literally gagged that shit, I mean tea, down every day, with the promise that it would help me feel better. Remember, I wasn’t doing so well energetically at that time, and he was the humor-free shaman that the Universe had assigned to my case.

So…here goes.
Once upon a loooooong time ago, T,  (my Yoda) traveled the world for years with the intention of soaking up knowledge from different teachers and learning ancient healing techniques that in remote parts of the world are only passed down verbally.

As weeks turned to months and months to years, he had started to run out of money and was exhausted both mentally and physically.

He couldn’t remember exactly which country he was in, Nepal, he thought, when he found himself walking many hours on a rocky dirt road, looking for a place to eat and potentially stay the night.

“On that kind of journey, you often stay in local people’s homes” he explained, “Trading something you’ve gathered along the way for a bite to eat and a place to rest your weary bones.” He had collected a couple of beautiful scarves, precious beads, dried fruit, and chocolate, things that were easy to carry and could be used in lieu of currency.
He also offered a healing when appropriate.

As he tells it, he was hiking along, in a kind of walking meditation, on a steep mountain road, when he suddenly looked up and saw a tall tree next to a wall with a huge wooden door. He swears it appeared out of nowhere.

A Monastery perhaps? he thought.

He stood in front of the wooden door for a long time after knocking.

Nothing. No answer.

He knocked again, louder, three more times with no reply before he walked away.

Five or six steps up the path he thought he heard the creaking of heavy wood and straining metal. He turned around to see a very tall man in long robes standing at the entrance.

He tried all the local dialects in an attempt to communicate with the man, but to no avail.  It was then that he noticed the intricate embroidery on his robes—which meant he wasn’t a monk, so this wasn’t a monastery.

He acted more like a doorman, silently nodding and gesturing for T to go inside.

He was intrigued and decided to comply. As he walked past the giant, dandily dressed man, he was surprised to feel how much cooler it was inside the dark shadows thrown by thick stone walls.  It appeared to him to be an ancient and enormous labyrinth of rooms.  He could hear birds singing and the trickle of fountains and everywhere he looked were elaborately colored tile walls. The floors were covered with Persian rugs made of ceramic tiles as the silent gentleman-doorman led him down a long hallway to a large bed chamber that was set up like a spa.

One side of the room was dominated by a thick, cushy mattress sitting on the floor that was overtaken by tons of large pillows and surrounded by voluminous drapes of fabric.  On a round table covered in mosaic tiles was a pitcher of water with fresh limes, and bowls of figs and dates. The other side had a large step-down tub/pool with a private bathroom, which was highly unusual.  In that part of the world, the baths and toilets, which were generally holes in the ground, were most commonly shared.

The man motioned for T to put down his heavy pack and rest.

T tried to explain that he had almost no money and that even if he did he could never afford to stay in such a grand establishment, for this could never be someone’s home, it must surely be the most beautiful hotel he’d ever seen.
But before he could finish… without a sound…the man was gone.

When he sat on the bed to figure out what to do next, he realized just how bone-tired he really was. The next thing he remembered was waking up surrounded by the long shadows of dusk.
After enjoying the facilities, soaking in the deep pool of cool, clean water and putting on fresh clothes, he left the room in search of the tall quiet guy or anyone else who may be in charge so he could apologize for falling asleep and give them what little money he had left.

The place was huge, covered floor to ceiling with ornate tile which left him visually disoriented while attempting to navigate a very complicated floor plan that kept leading him back to what appeared to be a large dining room.

The long table was surrounded by many chairs and lit by the glow of numerous candelabras. It was also completely covered, end to end—with food! Steaming hot plates of saffron rice with raisins, sauteed eggplant, and different meat dishes with flat bread and fruits of every variety.

He noticed only one place setting, it was at the head of the table. This must be a feast for the owner of the establishment he thought. Good, now I can talk to someone, and maybe get a bite to eat.
The smell of all the delicious food was making his stomach churn with hunger.

Just then the silent gentleman appeared.  T took out his money and started asking if it would be possible to talk to the owner and get something to eat; but the man again motioned for him to be seated at the head of the table. Bewildered, T sat down and the man with no words started to serve him. Guessing by now that maybe the lovely man had taken a vow of silence or was profoundly deaf, he ceased talking and started eating, figuring the owner or some other guests would come along soon, (even though he hadn’t seen another soul), allowing him to clear things up.

Certainly all this incredible food wasn’t just for him.
But it was.

The way he told it, that night was some of the best food and wine he’s EVER tasted.
And it was the best bed he’s EVER slept in, and the deepest sleep he’s EVER slept.

I can’t remember exactly how he discovered it, I think he saw the date on his watch, but at some point, he realized that when he woke up at dusk that first day, he had actually slept over 24 hours and it was dusk of the next day!
“No wonder I was so hungry.” He said, laughing.

Back at the Villa, he wandered around, getting lost in its beauty, never seeing another soul. He spent his hours admiring the opulence, swimming in the pool of clear cool water, eating whatever and whenever he felt like, and resting—deeply— something he hadn’t allowed himself to do for many months.

Occasionally, he would see the quiet man whom he had stopped trying to communicate with.
They seemed to do just fine without words.

He could have stayed in this Nirvana forever, but after three days he decided to leave, lest he take advantage of his benefactor’s generosity.
As he was leaving, he wrapped all his money and some valuable red amber beads in the best scarf he had, and put it on a table by the door. It wasn’t nearly enough for all the luxury afforded him, but it was all he had.

The days of rest he’d gotten gave him a new sense of purpose and he was able to do some healings to earn money, so he continued on his journey.

He figured it was about a year later when he was passing through that part of the world again that he wanted to go back and stay at the beautiful retreat. This time he had plenty of money to pay!

He climbed the steep  and dusty road, remembering all the twists and turns until he found himself suddenly at the top.
He must have passed the place while lost deep in anticipation of the food and wine, although that seemed impossible.
He walked back down the road slowly and deliberately now, finally seeing the tree to his left….but no wall, no large wooden door, and absolutely no villa.

He stood there for a long time, doubting himself, knowing he was standing in the exact right place.

He would NEVER forget this road and that tree with the giant door and the man who never spoke.

After awhile another traveler, an old man with a skinny goat, walked into view.
As the man passed, T asked him what had happened to the grand villa that had stood right in that spot just a year ago.

“I am a very old man, and I’ve lived at the bottom of the hill all my life, and I can assure you, there has never been any building, let alone something grand on this road”.

T thanked the old man, handing him several bags of almonds, and stood there mystified for some time. Eventually, he made his way back down the hill and stayed in town with the old man and the goat.

“The Universe provides just what we need when we need it” he assured me with the conviction miracles instill in people who have been beneficiaries of just such an event.

That is just one of many, many meatball miracles that happened to him on that journey to seek wisdom. The Universe provides.

I love that story. How about you?
Xox

If it looks good, you’ll see it. If it sounds good, you’ll hear it. If it’s marketed right, you’ll buy it. If it’s real….you’ll feel it.
~Kid Rock

It used to make me furious when I was a young girl (under thirty) when someone; a guru, the lady at the cosmetics counter at Bullocks, even my mother, would end a piece of advise with the phrase: You just know when you know.

“How will I know when I’ve reached enlightenment?”

“There are soooooo many different shades of red lipstick, which one looks the best?”

“There are thousands of great men in the world (saying thousands instead of millions was me being discerning) how will I be able to pick just one?”

I was looking to these experts of the human experience for answers, and the one I got most often was: You just know when you know.

Ugh. I don’t want a Zen koan, I want some real life, practical wisdom. Little did I know, that’s EXACTLY what they were dispensing.

The more often I heard this pearl, the more it sunk in and I began to take it under advisement.

One Saturday afternoon at the West Hollywood MAC store, as I lined both hands and up one arm with samples of their thirty shades of red, while waiting for a gorgeous tranny to finish up a false eyelash tutorial and give a girl some help; it hit me.

Just like that, it was suddenly clear. The clouds parted, and I just KNEW.
Out of all the choices supplied by MAC that day, two shades were just okay, the rest were shit, too pink, too blue, too dark. Then, there was THE ONE (cue the children’s choir) – it looked spectacular on my yellowish skin tone.
I ran to the window for natural light – still good.
All indecision left my body as I grabbed a wipe, cleaned myself up and ran to the counter to make my purchase.
You just know when you know.

My pocket Guru that helped me out during all my spiritual troubles in the nineties, doled out that phrase to me like mints after Mexican food.
At the time I had an annoying habit of questioning EVERYTHING
.
“How will I know if the voice in my head is my intuition or that little devil that lives on my shoulder?”

“When do you know if you’ve reached that place in meditation?”

“How do you know when you’re done praying?”

“How can I tell if I’m living my life’s purpose?”

Some of my queries were existential masterpieces and some, even if I do say so myself, were mind numbingly dumb; still, his answer was always the same:
You just know when you know.

He was right. Damn him.

Where men were concerned, this phrase proved most infuriating of all.
I’ll just know…….shit.

I had married at twenty, thinking I knew, but if I’m being completely honest (which is always my goal here) I had my doubts at the time, just no courage to go along with them, so I went through with it.
Like I’ve written before, it should be against the law to get married that young. You shouldn’t be allowed to make that big of a life decision when you’re not old enough to buy beer.

Some people DO know at a young age, but it’s as rare as being struck by lightning – and that’s how I imagined it would feel to just know.

As each year went by after my divorce, I felt a lot of things about a lot of men, but certainty wasn’t one of them.
As I entered my forties, life experience came in handy as a kind of roadmap of what I DIDNT want.

You know what I mean.

When you know what you DON’T want, you are clearer on what you DO want. No mullets, no long, yellow toenails, no mommy issues – you know, like that.

I was waiting for lightening.
But when it showed up it was more like goosebumps.
That’s my signal when I just know – my whole body becomes covered with big, giant, goosebumps…oh, and I shake.

Good job Universe, that’s some pretty undeniable physical evidence to let me know – when I’m living my purpose, I’ve found the perfect shade of red lipstick and that this time I married the exact right guy for me.

My advise to you? Pay attention; to your body, to your gut, to your heart, because they DO help you out.

Life gives us all sorts of signs about when to leave, what to say, when to forgive and which black shoes to wear.

Be on the lookout for shivers and goosebumps and lightening.
And take it from me, The Former Queen of the Jaded Skeptics.

You WILL just know when you know.

Do you get physical signs that let you know that you know? What are they if ya don’t mind me askin’? Tell me about YOUR experience with this phrase, I’d SO love to hear about it!

In case you’d rather listen than read, here you go:
https://soundcloud.com/jbertolus/how-to-find-the-perfect-red

You KNOW I’m sending some love,
Xox

SURRENDER
sur·ren·der
səˈrendər/
(verb)
1. cease resistance to an enemy or opponent and submit to their authority.
synonyms: capitulate, give in, give (oneself) up, give way, yield, concede
(defeat), submit, climb down, back down, cave in, relent, crumble

1. give up or hand over (a person, right, or possession), typically on compulsion or demand.

“Always seek less turbulent skies.
Hurt. Fly above it.
Betrayal. Fly above it.
Anger. Fly above it.
You are the one who is flying the plane.”
― Marianne Williamson

I don’t know about you, but I’ve been known to continue to fly straight into the most turbulent sky’s.
Seat backs upright, tray tables locked in their upright position, death grip on the wheel, bleary eyes staring straight ahead.
The freakin’ FASTEN YOUR SEAT BELTS sign mocking me with its continuous, blaring red gaze.

Bumpy………Choppy……..Shit…………………Shit!

There I’d remain, resolute; until exhaustion set in, or whiplash, or both, and I would be forced to surrender the wheel.

Then, a force greater than myself, would steer my plane toward smooth horizons.

I wrote the other day about letting go of the wheel, and that really resonated with many of you. Letting the Muse or the Universe take over the accomplishment of all our endeavors. People wept with relief. Just the thought of it brought tears to their eyes.

But you can’t just throw your hands up, and put the plane on auto pilot.

Auto pilot to me; is just more of the same.
Super safe. It doesn’t rise, it doesn’t dive, it goes full steam ahead.
No change of course.

So here’s the deal. You have to take it a step further and SURRENDER the wheel.

I always HATED the word surrender. To me, it meant giving up.

Running that white flag up the pole to signal to everyone that you’ve just conceded the fight…..cause…..relationship….job….whatever.

It signified weakness.

I could not have been more wrong. Did you hear me? That’s WRONG.

“When we surrender to God, the Universe, Source, we surrender to something bigger than ourselves – to a Universe that knows what it’s doing.
When we stop trying to control events, they fall into a natural order, an order that works. We’re at rest while a power much greater than our own takes over, and it does a much better job than we could have done. We learn to trust that the power that holds galaxies together can handle the circumstances of our relatively little lives.”
~Marianne Williamson

It takes a great deal of courage to surrender. It is the opposite of cowardice.

It does not mean you’re giving away your power, on the contrary, you are powerful enough to realize that you may not have ALL the answers.
All the most powerful, accomplished people in the world are surrounded by a TEAM. When they’ve exhausted all their options, they make a calculated decision. They are deeply invested, they pay attention, BUT, they let the experts drive.

The experts are sent by the Universe.

Here’s a little secret. You know how my store was a causality of a freak urban flood?
Earlier that day, completely worn out and emotionally exhausted from fighting the good fight of trying to keep my store afloat financially, I sat in meditation and literally said: “I surrender. You take it,” over and over, picturing my arms up in the air, above my head, like the robber emerging after the bank heist.

I gave in. I yelled “Uncle.”

The next day, when I woke up……..the store was just a soggy memory. Gone. Finished.
Um, thanks?

My courage had to catch up with my request, because it wasn’t at ALLLLLL what I was expecting. But that’s how the Universe rolls.

“Surrender means, by definition, giving up attachment to results. When we surrender to God, we let go of our attachment to how things happen on the outside and we become more concerned with what happens on the inside.”
~Marianne Williamson

They’ll be times when you can’t guide your own plane to clear sky’s.
You just can’t for life of you find any.

Pry your hands off the wheel, put your seat back, disengage the auto-pilot, relax and SURRENDER the entire situation to the Universe.

Then ring for the flight attendant to bring you a cocktail.

What needed surrendering in your life TODAY? Have you had success with surrender in the past? I’d LOVE to hear about it?

Xox

If it sounds like writing…rewrite it
~Elmore Leonard~

We all come in with a purpose.

But because we’ve forgotten to remember, we spend the majority of our lives searching for it.
Unless you’re incredibly lucky and come in as a child prodigy….or angry cat.

Once we make our connection with God, the Muse, Source, or whatever you want to call it, our ONLY job is to remain a clear and unbiased vessel.

When we do finally connect with our purpose, it becomes more than a job.
It becomes a calling.
All we need to do is enthusiastically show up every day.

The purpose itself will create opportunities for its accomplishment.

What?

You mean I’m not the only one who controls how this work gets out in the world?

I feel solely responsible for what happens to anything I create, after the initial process is finished.
I want to write the pitch, I want to orchestrate the meeting, I want to call the shots with every i dotted and every t crossed…..by me.

Yet, if we can trust the Muse to co-create our purpose, can’t we trust her to place it just where it needs to go?

She’s got a much broader vision than we’ll ever have, and her contacts are legendary. Back in the day of Rolodex’s, she had fifty of them lined up, side by side, crammed with every mover and shaker across the planet.

Nothing escapes her radar.

Her ideas have ideas.

We have thoughtfully and tenderly brought her masterpiece to third dimension; she’ll take care of the rest.

If we muck up the trajectory SHE has in mind with our ideas of how WE think it should play out…..crickets.

Here is the story of J K Rowling’s (if you’ve been living under a rock, she is the author of the Harry Potter series of books) rise to fame.

After being rejected twelve times by every major publishing company, one of the manuscripts found its way into a pile on an office shelf. End of story, right?

It could have been. It should have been.

What happened next could have come with a swish of Harry Potter’s wand.
(Muse magic?)

In the spring of 1997, struggling English producer David Heyman’s secretary, Nisha Parti, picked up a manuscript from the shelf marked ‘low priority’.
Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone was yet to be published. She took it home to read over the weekend.
Monday morning they had their meeting and David asked if anyone had read anything good. Nisha said, “Well I’ve read this book, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone.”
“That’s a rubbish title,” he said. What’s it about?”
She said, “It’s about a young boy who goes to wizard school.”
Intrigued, he took it home and read it in one night.
And the rest is history.

So…..
What if J K Rowling had stopped after three rejections, or seven, or ten?

We have no idea which manuscript ended up on the low priority list in that producer’s office.

What if she had listened to the criticism that boys don’t read books?

What made his secretary pick THAT manuscript to read? Who marked it low priority, so that it ended up in her pile?

What if she’d released them as short stories, because people were telling her the books were too long and wordy?

What if she was against film adaptation? Some authors are.

Someone came up with the release date parties held at midnight in bookstores across the globe. They created a marketing frenzy. That was a completely new concept in book publishing/marketing at the time. Whose idea was THAT?
(That has the Muse’s fingerprints ALL over it.)

What if she’d wanted a more well-known producer, or more money?
The list goes on and on.
I think you get the gist.

I really love the concept that all we have to do is sing, write, paint, create; then listen for instructions on what comes next and not have to drive ourselves nuts figuring out the rest.
You get that we can’t possibly know what comes next, right?

Finish your work. Say a prayer. Let go of the wheel.

Let the source that wrote the screenplay, line up the appropriate people, and then pitch it.
She’ll tell us what day and what to say. She’s proud of her work, that Muse, and so naturally she’d love it to get as popular and touch as many people as possible.
Doesn’t that make sense?

Due diligence, yes. Thinking we have all the answers, no.

The purpose itself will create opportunities for its Accomplishment

It’s worth repeating.

Do you have projects you need to let go of and trust the process? I’d love to hear some stories of how the Muse took a project where it needed to go.
Tell me in the comments!

Xox

Pain can only feed on pain. Pain cannot feed on joy. It finds it quite indigestible.
~Eckhart Tolle~

You will touch joy and suddenly realize that you have never felt joy because it requires abandon. It grows from gratitude and cannot exist where there is mad cynicism or distrust.
You will touch this joy and you will suddenly know it is what you were looking for your whole life, but you were afraid to even acknowledge the absence because the hunger for it was so encompassing. 

—Eve Ensler, In the Body of the World

Loose your fear and touch joy today…..Happy Sunday!
Xox

*Occasionally I’ll be reprising some of the most popular posts from the past. Today there are actually two. My letter to money, and money’s response.
Enjoy!
XoxJanet

Dear Money,
I know our relationship has felt strained these last few years,
but we’ve always been so close and……..I miss you.
My darling Money……I think we should reconcile.
I know it looks like my life’s been all topsy turvy for a while now, and I seem like a bad risk, but I can assure you, I’ve worked really hard on myself and I’ve grown so much.
I feel like I can meet you half way. 
You must admit, you’ve been very elusive, really playing hard to get.
You barely even show your face, and when you do, I turn around and you’re gone.
That hurts, because I can still remember all the good times we had.
All that crazy spontaneous traveling we did together, remember Italy, with the shopping, and long lunches? 
You were always so there for me. I want to make more of those memories!
We even bought a house together for cryin’ out loud!
I think I showed my commitment to the long haul, what about you?
Sure, I’ve made a few mistakes, but who hasn’t!
We had “it” once and I think we can have “it” again.
That kind of relationship doesn’t just disappear.
My choices may have seemed questionable, but now, if you could just stick around for a while, you’d see how they’re all working out for me.
You’ve said in the past that I’m overly sensitive, but you’re the one who’s stayed away for so long…and without even a goodbye.
I’m willing to forgive, forget and move on…together, hand in hand…like the old days.
Take a few days to think about it…….I know how you are about change.

XoxJanet

Money’s Response
Earlier this month you wrote me a note, expressing your desire to reconcile.
My Darling, I never left you, you lost your faith and trust in ME.
Mistakes were made, c’est la vie!
I’m incapable of holding a grudge, yet, you doubt my devotion.
Believe me when I tell you:
I am here to help you.
I am here to support you in your endeavors.
I am trustworthy.
I can be counted on to show up in your life when needed.
There is more than enough of me to go around.
I’ll never let you down.
I want to help you, help others.
Don’t worry about me, I’m here.

Xox

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 

Earlier this month you wrote me a note, expressing your desire to reconcile. (Dear Money)
My Darling, I never left you, you lost your faith and trust in ME.

Mistakes were made, c’est la vie!
I’m incapable of holding a grudge, yet, you doubt my devotion.
Believe me when I tell you:

I am here to help you.
I am here to support you in your endeavors.
I am trustworthy!
I can be counted on to show up in your life when needed.
There is more than enough of me to go around.
I’ll never let you down.
I want to help you, help others.
Don’t worry about me, I’m here.

• What I realized when writing this is, geez! That sounds like a script from some of the relationships I’ve had with men! I wanted them to say those exact words! I needed the same reassurance.
  I did get that…so there’s hope.
  But did I just replace my distrust of men, with a distrust of money?! It’s true!! I’m having trust issues with money right now. 
  Wow, you never know what’s going to come up when you just get out of the way and write.
  Ha! That’s some deep shit! Stay tuned!

XoxJanet