It’s The Little Triumphs We Don’t Want To Miss

Hay House has been on the top of my list of places I’d like to work since I found out they are only about 15 miles from where I live. They are a publishing company formed by Louise L. Hay. Louise was one of the first people to bring the self-help movement to life, making the connection between mind and body back in the early 70s. My mother constantly referenced information gleaned from Hay’s words as I grew up. (And you thought I wasn’t listening, Mom!) Of course when I was younger, I blew most of it off (yes, youth is wasted on the young), but as I got into the study of science and consciousness myself from my early 20s on, I was surprised to find quite a bit of what I knew “innately” originated in Louise Hay’s wisdom.

A few months after I was laid off, I was “wasting time” watching videos on the net, and I came across You Can Heal Your Life, which is Hay’s signature movie. I consumed the entire flick in rapt attention, even though I already knew many of the principles covered. (It never hurts to bring it up to the front again.) In the movie, one of the women they interview uses the mantra: My income in constantly increasing. For whatever reason, those particular words at that particular moment, strung together in that particular order really resonated with me, so I wrote them on a post it note and tacked them to my mirror. (My mantra has evolved, as I mentioned in another blog post recently, but you have to tweak these things sometimes.) The results since have been undeniable. I haven’t had a regular paycheck for 11 months, but I have not lacked for money. This is not to say I’ve been rolling in dough, but so far my needs have always been met with minimal stress.

Even with my comprehension of the Law of Attraction and how we create our own reality, I am still in awe of the Universe when I get what I ask for. (I must note here that an Attitude of Gratitude has been my habit for long before this, and that is also an essential ingredient.) I know I still have many issues of self-worth that are not sorted out, but fortunately it appears I am making at least a wee bit of progress.

Anyway, this is just one of the reasons I so admire Louise Hay and the principles she’s pushed into the public light. When you consider that I’ve been a bookworm since I learned to read, and have enjoyed working for Pearson Education publishing science textbooks for the last few years, it seems working for a publishing house that puts out materials I can completely support with my whole heart is a no brainer. And I live right next door to them! WOOO!

I’ve watched their web site for job openings, but so far I haven’t seen anything that I feel confident in applying for. The other day I decided I was going to hand them my resume personally, hoping perhaps if an internal position came up they would consider me. My unemployment benefits are coming down to the end and although I have faith that whatever happens will be the experience I am meant to be having, I would truly prefer to have the experience of another income before the money runs out!

Morning before last I was at the boyfriend’s house working on my part-time projects for Pearson. About 2pm his internet connection kicked me off and wouldn’t let me back on. I took this as a sign to stop shuffling around and get on with the business of knocking on doors for jobs. I know the reason I procrastinate is because I’m afraid of being rejected, and failure, and half a dozen other negative things, but I also planned to visit Hay House that day so I tried to focus on the motivation of what that could lead to instead.

As I got dressed, I realized the outfit I’d brought didn’t look as nice as I’d anticipated. It really needed a belt, but since I was not home, I had no options. My Right Brain (seat of emotions and Ego) tried to argue that since I did not look “perfect,” perhaps it would be better to just go home, apply to some places online, and try again tomorrow. My Left Brain (place of logic) was having none of it. It sternly shook its neurons at Right Brain and argued that this has been my excuse for too many days, which is why it’s taken me so long to find a job. It took me a good 20 minutes to convince myself that the clothes did not matter, and to just get going.

As I got in the car I realized I’d forgotten to bring my portfolio with me that contains my resumes all printed on nice, formal paper. About two seconds later I realized I also did not have Hay House’s address (which took me quite awhile to sleuth out on the net, as they prefer to direct everyone to their post office box). Although I remembered approximately where the street was, I had no definitive way of finding the correct building, and without the internet connection in the house, I could not look it up again easily.

I sat in the car, observing the two sides of my brain firing off like an old married couple, and wondered how it is that I manage to live with myself. Maybe this is why I’m still single. There are already too many “people” in my life with just me.

Left Brain: Your resume is on a thumb drive in your purse. Just go print some on regular paper.

Right Brain: But it won’t LOOK nice and then I won’t make a good impression.

Left Brain: I doubt anyone will notice the quality of paper it’s on. The information on the paper is more important and speaks for itself.

Right Brain: First impressions count tho, and without nice paper people will think I suck.

Left Brain: ::rolls its virtual eyes:: Like the paper is an indication of your worth. Please. You’re making excuses.

Right Brain: Well I don’t have the address for Hay House anyway, so what’s the point? I should just call it a day and go home.

[Note: I had not even gone out yet.]

Left Brain: Hiding at home is not going to bring you income. And you’re running out of time. Don’t mess this up.

[“Mess this up” is not exactly the thought Left Brain used, but I’m trying to keep it PG here.]

Right Brain: But I’m AFRAID of people. And failure. And I don’t want to do this. I hate being judged. Why can’t someone just hire me without all this hassle?

Left Brain: Because they can’t hire you if they don’t even know you’re looking dumb@$$. Now go print out some resumes on regular paper and stop obsessing about all the reasons you “can’t.”

Right Brain: FINE. Whatever.

I go inside and the printer tells me the ink is low (Right Brain: “HA!” Left Brain: SIGH), so I only print one resume. It is now almost 4pm so businesses will only be open another hour anyway.

I listen to Right Brain describing how much I suck all the way to Carlsbad.

As I approach my exit on the highway, I pull myself together and decide this attitude is not going to land me a job with a company like Hay House. Instead, I give it up to the Universe: if I am meant to work at Hay House, I will “use the Force” as I have done many times in the past, and I will be led to their building without needing the street address. I know for certain this has worked for me in countless prior situations so Right Brain can’t argue with that, and is finally – thankfully! – silenced.

I remember that the street Hay House is on was somewhere on the east side of Palomar Airport, so I pass the entrance and the runway. A couple days before, I was in the same area for an interview with a temp agency and I stopped at a Subway sandwich shop for lunch. As I approach the intersection where the Subway resides, I notice that the street is called Innovation Way (at least on one side, it is a different name on the other). The sign seems to stand out to me, but turning onto Innovation Way would take me in the wrong direction. Nevertheless, I think “well, perhaps there’s a reason I was over here the other day and just because it’s a different name on the other side doesn’t mean it can’t be innovative. Sounds like a street Louise would put her business on,” so I turn left.

I spent about 30 minutes riding around, writing down names of different companies in the various business parks so I could look them up on the Net that night and know something about them before I walk in to ask for Human Resources. I kept hoping I would run across THE building.

I covered about two square miles of cold concrete edifices with the only results being a few “Oh, I didn’t know they were here!”s. It was getting close to 5:00 and I decided I would go through this one last park… they were white, one-story buildings with blue trim and really didn’t look like something that would house a publisher, but I figured what the heck. Things are never what they seem and they’re on my way out.

I wound my way through the alleys noting names on doors and how many offices that were obviously once occupied now stood empty. Recession city, baby. I headed to the back of the complex and as I turned a corner saw the sign I’d been hoping to find:

Holy crap, I found it.

"Look within." What is this, a Dan Brown novel?

(Ok, the tagline is not on the actual sign on the building, but I’m telling a story here – I have a Literary License. Get yours here.)

I couldn’t believe I actually found it (but then again, I could). I was hearing Yoda in my head as I circled the building looking for the front door. There were plenty of single glass entry points, but none with an obvious “come hither” neatly lettered on the pane like the surrounding businesses. You mean I have to figure out which door my future lies behind without even a hint? What if I guess wrong? Will there be lions waiting to eat me? C’mon – at least give me a CLUE!

I started feeling disappointed that I’d come all this way, managed to locate the building without the address, and now there was no apparent front desk. I’d found two locations listed online for Hay House (I figured one warehouse, one office), perhaps I was at the wrong one. Right Brain kicked in reminding me I should “just go home” but it was a weak voice compared to my determination now that I was this close.

My life is one big freakin’ metaphor.

As I rounded the last corner a second time, like any good Hollywood movie, I happened to see someone slip into one of the doors, and in the two nanoseconds it was open I thought I saw a reception area. Hmm. Could this be the entrance? Sure didn’t look like one, but there ARE handicap spaces right in front of it (that would be McGuyver Left Brain taking over). The blinds were drawn so I couldn’t tell what the space inside looked like, but I had asked for a clue and it looked like this was the best I was going to get.

I parked the car and sat there pushing down my flight impulse again. How stupid would I look (or how much trouble would I be in) if I walked into a bunch of cubicles where I don’t belong? People might look at me funny, or even worse, ask what I'm doing there, then I will surely keel over and die of embarrassment. Right there on their most-likely-blue commercial carpet.

My mother always told me that Grandpa told her, “Walk in like you own the place and no one will question you.” He was a Navy man. I have used this method successfully in the past. Today, not so much.

I gathered my resume and my courage and stepped through the door. Oh good – there IS a reception desk, with a receptionist behind it, so I will not be eaten by lions or arrested for being somewhere I shouldn’t be. The worst that can happen is I might look like an idiot. But I will survive this. Oh look, there are chairs. And magazines. And a fish tank. Because of course fish are tranquil and that’s what this company is about. Duh. And - haha - they have blue carpet. I really, really, really want to work here. Now pay attention. Don’t sound desperate. Smile.

There is a receptionist and another employee blinking at me in expectation.

Ok smiling… smiling… I need words… words would be good… please give me some words… from the brain, out the mouth… c’mon… shit, why didn’t I rehearse this or something? Is this what guys feel like when they walk up to a pretty girl?

“Hello, do you have a Human Resources department?” (Geez, could you come up with a stupider, more UN-informative opening line?)

“No, I’m sorry we don’t.” Employee exits. My paranoid Right Brain assures me she is snickering at my discomfort. Left Brain shushes the beast.

“Umm… is there someone I can leave my resume with then? I’d really like to work for Hay House so I was hoping to speak with someone.” (Way to sound confident, like you really belong here and they should hire you immediately – NOT.)

“I could take it for you, but right now we don’t have any open positions. You can check our web site… there is a card with the address right there.”

I take the card and hand her my resume (on crappy paper, wearing my sub-par outfit, NOT holding my professional looking portfolio) imagining it will go right in the trash as soon as I walk out the door. I SOOO do not want that to happen. What can I say to change her mind? DO SOMETHING besides stand there looking crushed you idiot!

“Thank you. I’ve actually been watching the web site but I haven’t seen anything come up recently that I’m qualified for. I just really want to work here, so I figured maybe if I brought my resume to you in person you could keep it on file and let me know when there is a place I would fit in.” (Now you sound completely desperate. Good job. Just go home you loser. What were you thinking?)

The receptionist is kind of at a loss for words, having done her job and not being able to offer me anything else. I don’t want to leave though as it’s really taken a lot to reach the place I’m standing, and I’m not yet convinced that crappy-paper resume isn’t ending up in File 13. I feel like a six year old on the verge of tears when the Universe finally shows some mercy and breathes a bit of brilliance into my thoughts.

“I know your time is valuable and I don’t want to take up too much of it, but it’s a funny story how I got here today…”

I proceed to relate an edited version of the events that led to not having the address, and how I left it up to the Universe to help me find the building if I was meant to work there, finishing up with how non-descript the entrance is and how thankful I am to have found it. I try really hard not to be as verbose as I usually am in storytelling, and pack all this into as succinct a narrative as possible.

I see the change come over the receptionist’s face just like they describe in books. She starts smiling like we now have a common ground, and agrees that it is absolutely difficult to find the place even when you DO have the address. Then the miracle happens.

The receptionist gives me the name and extension of the person I need to contact to follow up on my resume. SHE GAVE ME A FULL NAME AND PHONE EXTENSION. Of someone that has the power to move this forward, when appropriate... and even tho there are currently no positions open... at the #1 company on the very top of my “I Want To Work Here” list.

SCORE!!!

In the scope of life, this should appear as a minor event I suppose, but somehow I feel like I won the lottery.

There is no way that resume will go in the trash now, which I suddenly realize was the short-term goal. (My habit is to only see the end goal and forget about the steps in between, then wonder why I can’t simply leap from beginning to end.) I am reminded that “the journey of a thousand miles starts with one step.” [Chinese proverb.] I have never been so present in a moment in my life.

I am so grateful – even now as I’m writing this – to have accomplished that one small goal. I’m sure there are people that will scoff and go, “Well geez, all you did was drop off one resume. So what? There’s no guarantee they will give you a job.” This is true. I had the same thought. I have to wonder at this bizarre reaction I’m having myself. It’s not like I’ve never gone job hunting before, and certainly the Universe has its own schedule that trumps ours.

But my intuition says this: there are some crossroads in your life that are not evident when you are standing at them, yet are easily revealed in hindsight. Much like a hidden doorway (or math – ugh!), the answer is obvious once you’re on the other side, but standing at the beginning all you have is instinct and perhaps a few facts to base your direction on. I imagine there have been people that reach a point of success much further down the road, who look back from whence they came and think, “This all started because of that decision I made. Had I known that one choice was so important, I would’ve stopped to appreciate the moment more.”

Well I feel like I know, and even if I'm wrong, this is what it is to Be Here Now. I don’t know where this will lead, but I feel like it's the right direction, and needs to be appreciated even tho I don’t know what I’m appreciating yet, aside from a personal triumph over my own insecurities.

I guess I am appreciating this moment NOW because the success of knowing my resume will not go unnoticed in this company makes it much easier to imagine a time when maybe I’m standing in Barnes & Noble, autographing my bestseller book, thinking back to the day when I stood at that receptionist desk so beside myself, and Lupe the Receptionist changed my world. Wait until she finds out what she started!

Maybe it leads to nothing, and maybe it leads to everything. I am okay with allowing the Universe to keep that secret for now.

Excessive Income

Awhile back I was watching the Louise Hay video, You Can Heal Your Life. It was shortly after I was laid off, and I was depressed about having to look for another job (I am not good at selling myself so the interview process is stressful), and I was just generally in an icky mood, so I figured this might help improve things. And it did.

During the video one of the people they interviewed mentions she uses this affirmation: My income in constantly increasing. For whatever reason, that phrase, at that moment, said in just that way, really hit it right with me. I wrote it down, posted it on my mirror, and I said it anytime I would lay eyes on it.

It seemed to work because I started getting calls to do odd jobs and I made a few extra bucks here and there. Nothing that would replace my income, but enough to have some play money besides getting all the bills paid with unemployment benefits. The more dollars that dribbled in, the more I believed this phrase was the reason. Honestly, it has not let me down in the last 10 months!

There is a spiritual store in Oceanside that I've mentioned before, Kindred Journeys, and they hold all sorts of interesting classes there. I especially enjoy the ones lead by Teri Mahaney. At one of these classes I related the story of finding this affirmation and how well it's worked for me. I went on to say that I wished I could communicate to the Universe that I would like to increase my income to a level where I no longer have to live paycheck to paycheck. I'm always grateful for money coming in, but I would really like the security of knowing the Universe's endless supply of same is available to me at any local ATM! Teri suggested changing my affirmation to: My income exceeds my expenses.

I was having a little trouble with this because although I think it's a good affirmation, the word "exceeds" somehow holds a negative connotation in the right side of my brain, as if it automatically reverses "income" and "expenses" in the request I'm making each time I say it. I think this is because I've often been told that I live beyond my means and I should not let my expenses exceed my income. I can't tell you how many times I've heard those exact words, especially from my parents.

Logically (left brain) I know the technical words are correct and okay in context, but there is just something about it that doesn't FEEL good, so I'm afraid what I'm putting out there is exactly opposite of what I intend. Obviously, that's not cool! I've already proven I can easily spend more than I make. I certainly don't need any help with that!

I've tried modifying the phrase as such: My income always far exceeds my expenses. I figured putting a couple other words in there to separate "income" and "expenses" would give the neurons an extra nanosecond to clarify and fully comprehend what I mean. The new version sounds a little better in my head, but there's still that tiny nagging doubt, almost like the Brain KNOWS I'm just trying to fool it or something. I seriously think my Left Brain wanted to be a lawyer.

In the past week I've really been having some panic issues because all along I've been thinking my benefits will run out in mid-March. I don't remember how I came to this conclusion, but that was the time frame on my mental calendar. For the past several months, I've really stepped up my effort. I've been applying all sorts of places online, I signed up with a couple employment agencies, and I have even forced myself to put aside my shyness and go out there to NETWORK (please. kill. me. now!).

I have gotten ZERO response (from established companies). I mean it. And I'm not some unqualified idiot drone type person either. I have plenty of experience, it's been varied so I can handle lots of different things, and I've always gotten great reviews from my peers and superiors alike. My resume is written properly and professionally, I have multiple resumes for various positions, I taylor each one to the job I'm applying for - I do all the right things, so how is it possible I'm getting CRICKETS?!

I do actually have some freelance projects for Pearson right now, and those are great because the money comes in a big chunk when I'm done. The timing is getting worrisome though because the end of these projects keep getting delayed, and Pearson takes 60 days to pay (SIXTY!) after you invoice, so the help from these projects may not come until it's too late.

If I'm being completely honest too, just in the last few days I've actually received three responses to jobs I applied for on craigslist, but I'm a bit afraid the pay will be too low so I might be wasting my time on those. But that's just in the last two to three days - literally. They do offer some hope.

I've been saying my affirmation and still getting the little odd jobs here and there, I've been expressing my gratitude for everything I DO have (because honestly, even on the limited budget, my life ROCKS compared to many), but I can't seem to break that barrier into having a true, reliable source of income again.

So tonight I go to the mailbox because I know my unemployment check is in there. Turns out there are THREE things from EDD (California's unemployment agency). I open the first one and it is a notice stating that I've reported some income on the last check period and confirming that the information I reported was correct. Superfluous paperwork wasting the taxpayer's money, I swear. If they would just put all this online, California would probably gain some of their revenue back.

Second piece of mail from them is the check for the OTHER week in the pay period where I did not report income. Thank God. That will be paying my rent tomorrow. And OMG... wait a minute... what is this? Is that balance correct? Turns out I have enough still in my reserve to go another ELEVEN weeks. Not just four. That is a HUGE relief. Not that I desire to be on unemployment another three months, but I was thinking I might be homeless by April! I'm not kidding! I've been pushing away all kinds of awful Hollywood-induced scenarios in my head.

Third piece of mail is a notice (AGAIN!) - apparently from the Redundant Department of Redundancy telling me I reported income on my last benefit period which is why I get nothing for that week. It says:

Note the wording: No benefits are payable because I reported EXCESSIVE EARNINGS. I had EXCESSIVE EARNINGS! That means A LOT OF INCOME! EXCESSIVE EVEN! And I can tell there is something about putting it this way that doesn't sound bad to my brain. I can't stress enough how key the emotion behind the thought is. The Universe hears your underlying intent, always. You cannot LIE to the Cosmos. Somehow this combination of words hits the Right Brain properly and FEELS as well as sounds like hey, I manifested LOTS of money! So much that I can't collect unemployment that week! Actually, it took me several months to make all that money, it just came in one check so I only had to report on one week, but still... EXCESSIVE INCOME! WOO!

I just thought their choice of words was so funny. This is how God talks to you though, if you care to listen. Little coincidences and hints. Divine winks. It's like a treasure hunt. I actually have to give the credit for the part of my personality that thrives on that to my Mom. Sometimes on birthdays and especially at Easter (not that we were ever Christian), she would write clues for me and leave a trail I had to follow and figure out to find my presents or the Easter basket. It was a lot of fun.

Not to get too far off the subject, but there was a day when my friend M and I were hiking, and met up with a guy that had FOUR dogs off leash on the trail. At first we were worried, but it was quickly obvious he had complete verbal control over these dogs. We asked him how he got them trained so well and he said, "I don't issue commands, I make it fun. Dogs respond to fun." I think humans do too. But I digress.

That's what I desire - excessive income all the time. Who doesn't want so much money in the bank they don't have to worry about it the rest of their lives?

Apparently I really need to write "the damn book" too (definitely the working title as I've already said it so often). Maybe that's how I will have excessive income forever. Last night I picked up a local publication that's been sitting around my room for weeks waiting to be read. On the front cover is a headline about a local guy that's a retired FBI agent (I've been wearing Katy's FBI sweatshirt a lot lately because it's so comfortable) who wrote a book that became a bestseller. Hmmm - FBI - books - authors. All words related to me in some way. I open the magazine looking for the article on the author and I "happen" to open to a half page ad with DRAGONFLY scrawled across it. Apparently this is the name of a new plant nursery in Pala. I couldn't have missed the word though if it was plastered to my face. Like the Universe calling my name. Some may find that too much of a stretch to qualify it as a message, but not me. If those subjects were all truly unrelated, I would've missed the memo.

One more last little wisdom sound bite for you... last night the bf and I were on IM talking about what he makes on Google AdSense. He has a regular day job right now as well. I was saying that what he makes JUST from ads would pay my bills every month. He related how it is important to make free money while you work someplace else if you want a really good income. (You don't have to tell me free money is good! DUH!) He says a friend of his put it best: Don't work on products, work on engines. Engines that make money while you're not there. I'm not surprised this made an impression on him since he's a train fanatic so the word "engine" would be something his brain would easily latch onto.

I had never thought of it in that way, but it clicked for me too. (Must be the product part of it and my marketing background.) Engines, not products. Just the idea the words portray indicate movement (i.e., INcome - incoming) vs. something stationary. He pointed out that a book is an engine because you will still be getting royalties (one would hope) long after you're working on the next one. I'd always viewed it as a product... until now.

So to circle back again to the original subject, I think I will modify my affirmation to: My income is EXCESSIVE all the time. And if the lottery or a book or some other form of free money is my engine, I'll gladly hop on and ride it as long as it goes!

Automatic Wisdom

Recently I received an email newsletter from Mark Morford, who is one of my journalistic heroes. It was mostly an update on his new book, which is not out yet because he didn't pick ME to be the project manager on it even tho I offered to do it FOR FREE (and he actually laments the fact that he picked the wrong people to publish it in his newsletter - not that his requiem had anything to do with me personally as I'm quite sure he still has no clue who I am, but I DID offer and I WOULD'VE been kick ass), but that's neither here nor there.

In the newsletter he has links to his web site of course, but I've seen that before. What I hadn't seen was his new yoga web site (yes I did just type "toga" by mistake - too funny) so I went to check it out. Generally I hate pages that play music without asking first, but the initial song on this site was soothing and peaceful so I couldn't complain. I wrote him email to ask what the title is. While I'm not really sure if he'll send me the answer (but I hope so), I was pleased to get the following autoresponse with all the flavor that is inherently Morford:

It is entirely possible that you are made of divine light and cosmic dust and that all your memories and all your plans and all your masks are merely drinking games the gods play to keep themselves entertained and you enthralled while you try and figure out how to evolve toward the next transformation. Or maybe not.

Drinking games the Gods play. This is why I think he's awesome.

Of course the imp in me is totally tempted to keep sending emails to see if there are different responses or the same one each time. I would have to collect them all if they were different. I'm sure that would endear me to him right away. LOL

~*~

HA!! And just like that I got an answer! The song is by Moby, the title is Everloving. Ironically, just a few weeks ago I was in Texas at a friend's house and I raided their CD collection. Much of what I loaded to my iTunes was Moby because I'd like to know his music better and as the Gods would have it, Everloving was one of the songs! Woo! I love when the Universe plans ahead. :)

Nature is MOCKING ME

Actually written Monday or Tuesday I think...

This weekend held a lot of fun, but it was also a tough one because circumstances (and some truly asinine voices that won't shut up in my head) prompted me to initiate one of those "serious" talks with the boyfriend about what's on the horizon of the path we're walking. I'm not one of those stereotype girls that pushes for a white picket fence, but I know how I feel and after being together a year, I'm pretty sure it would NOT suck to spend the rest of my life with this guy. On the surface you'd think he felt the same. He has certainly professed his love in many awesome ways. However, behind the scenes there were a lot of comments and innuendos flying in both directions and I finally got tired of second guessing his intentions, despite my attempts to live only in the Now. Sometimes a girl just wants to know, ya know? Besides, games should be regulated to cards and boards and fields. In real life I prefer the Truth. All the time.

Unfortunately it turns out our thoughts on the future differed (which I knew before, but all his teasing made me wonder if things had changed because they certainly have on my end). This makes me sad (which I don't feel entitled to), but no less in love with him (or him with me he says). Still haven't figured out how much of a problem my feelings are going to be when we finally hit the apparent fork in the road (altho I have a good idea from past experience, and what if they don't make enough organic chocolate for this one?). Right This Minute I decided to cross that bridge when it comes up and not spend the rest of the hike moping about it. You miss out on too much good stuff if you're looking down at your feet sulking. Then again, a left at Albuquerque is sometimes the only bypass around Hell, crappy as the road is for lack of maintenance. (No, that is not a crack at Arizona altho the temp is about the same.)

Normally, when I'm feeling a bit off I look to nature to provide some clues as to which track might be the happiest one but this morning I admit I skipped out on meditation in favor of getting some work done. I haven't found anyone at the power company yet that will let me pay the bill with love and cuddles dammit. Ditto for Chrysler Financial - they prefer to have the government suck their... well, anyway... Perhaps the Gods took offense to my lack of attention, or the Universe is just not one to be ignored. Or maybe the mean voices in my head that are beating the crap out of my Ego manifested this to make sure I wrote it down, as writing is a form of meditation for me afterall.

The weather has been cooler these past several days so I had the sliding door open behind me. I heard a persistent tapping sound outside on the balcony. When I finally got curious enough to turn around and look, I saw a small brown bird sitting on the only twelve inches of railing visible from my chair. He was alternating looking in my window and smashing something against the wood. "Hi Birdie! What doin?" I asked. I love when the feathered ones come to visit. He looked at me in between every bash, as if to say, "Are you watching?"

"What's he smashing?" I wondered like every dumb blonde ever to lean over and peer at the monster to see if it's really dead. Cue the horror movie music.

I stood up for a closer look, and I swear he turned deliberately to show me what he had in his beak. The bastard.

It was a DRAGONFLY.

And apparently it was still half-alive because then I noticed the wings flutter after every pounding against his little green head. Can you hear the screams? Oh wait, maybe that's those stupid voices.

Since I was up, I moved toward the door to shoo the bird away thinking maybe it will drop the dragonfly in fright, but hell no. Instead he looked right at me, arched his neck and swallowed the damn thing whole. Well fuck me. Who knew birds could double as snakes? I haven't seen a performance like that since I owned boa constrictors. Of course he flew off once his meal was safe and his point made. I'll bet he's the jerk pooping all over my balcony too.

To the Gods I say: Thank you Captain Obvious. That makes me feel SO much better about Life when I see my own totem being mercilessly pummeled then eaten in one big defiant gulp. Perfect way to start my day. I need to go hug my iguana (Lizard is my other dominant totem).

Of course my head raced through all the things this could symbolize: I'm beating my head against a wall and should really just accept that the relationship will end and let it go. I should become the bird and fly away free with a full belly (you are what you eat, right?). It's just the food chain - the dragonfly served a purpose as nourishment for the bird - coincidence - meant nothing. Yeah right. Maybe I'll just become a regular Walmart customer while I'm at it.

Either way the opportunity to rise above the scene did not improve the cacophony in my head. I get a big fat F on that test. I know in the end it just is what it is - neither good or bad. That'd be fine if I wasn't human. Damn the bad luck.

~*~

There is actually more to this blog entry but I find one of the reasons I haven't been posting like I should is because I get stuck in editing over and over and adding too much then never finishing what I wrote. So that's a good stopping place and there it is. I need to start writing happier/funnier blogs tho. I notice lately everything I bother writing about and posting is the crap that goes on in between all the awesome stuff. Arg.

Bibbity Bobbity Boo

I am in Texas visiting my friend, M, who is also Godmother to my daughter. We've known each other since high school and are great friends. M has a toddler that will be baptized tomorrow and she has asked me to be her son's Godmother. The difference here is that Katy (my daughter) was never officially baptized or christened - M's Godmother title is more an acknowledgement of our friendship and a definition of her role in my daughter's life rather than the more traditional mantle she's asking me to accept (not that my asking her was any less sincere!).

M grew up Catholic (her husband is a non-practicing Episcopalian) but has since sort of renounced the church after some less-than-stellar experiences with the people involved. My own beliefs fall far, far away from any organized religion, and most particularly the one she is recovering from.

The way I understand it, a traditional Godmother is responsible for making sure the child grows up with knowledge of (or following) the parents' beliefs if the parents are - for whatever reason (usually death) - unable to do that themselves. I chose M as Katy's Godmother because we grew up with very similar family values and I knew that even if our beliefs fell on opposite sides of the fence, she would most importantly try to instill the good values and manners we were raised with in my daughter. She has proved on many occasions to be a valuable backup voice in guiding Katy through some childhood issues, so these are no small shoes to fill despite her size 5 feet!

I was curious to know why she chose me tho since she knows how I feel about Catholicism, and I'm thinking she and her husband are probably viewing my role from a more classic perspective. She replied, "You have the kind of connection with nature and God that we're looking for." (If she read my blog, she might add "Despite that previous link.") This really blew me away. For one thing, it feels like a huge confirmation of a bond to the Universe that I strive for in everything I do, but often feel like I fall short on (as if we're not all entwined with the Divine, but you get my drift). For a second thing, to have my beliefs accepted so unconditionally in such an official way (even if it's not laid out for everyone else to see) means a lot to me. It had more of an impact than she probably intended because defending myself against people who just don't get it (or dont accept it) has unfortunately become the rule, so to have someone ask me to be something important in their (and their son's) life BECAUSE of what I believe is a strangely foreign concept in my head, albeit a good one.

I asked her to expand on her statement so I was sure we were on the same page and she gave specific examples that on several of our hikes in days long past, I've taken tobacco along to offer the Earth in gratitude (a Native American ritual others have laughed at or called me "weird" for - honestly I was impressed she even remembered that as I try to keep it on the down low after so much ridicule from others); she has noted (apparently) that wild animals seem to have an affinity for my presence; and she cited my ability to remember specific trees in a forest on different outings (they are like people to me, they all look different and some personalities stand out). In her opinion (and her husband's), I suppose that adds up to the correct formula for being at a certain spiritual peace with our planet and All. Which is cool!

Anyway, I wasn't writing this to boast, I'm giving background because of the neatest thing that happened today. We were in the backyard this afternoon - M was on poop patrol and I was playing ball with the dog to tire him out. We came across a frog that was investigating (probably more like terrorizing) a major ant population way out at the end of the yard by a small gathering of trees. I haven't seen a frog in ages so I stood there talking to him for a minute, and watching him use his hind leg to fling the ants off his eyes when they got too annoying. He was really cute - about the size of my palm. Not really out of the ordinary, right? Just Mr. Toad out there being himself and a crazy girl making conversation with Nature (out loud since no one was watching).

The weird part is that much later this evening, I took the dog out again to pee and when we came back in, our amphibious buddy hopped right into the house under the dog's feet! At first I thought the dog had tracked a leaf or something in so I bent down to pick it up, but when it hopped away I realized it was my greenish-brown friend from way down in the back of the yard! Must've taken him all day to come up to the patio and wait by the door (it's a big yard).

I shooed him back outside quickly (with apologies) cuz I was afraid the dog (who is a large German Shepherd) or one of the many people now in the house (including two toddlers) would trample him if he panicked. Wildlife moves fast when spooked, which results in the humans getting spooked, then the energy level spikes out of control and bad things happen. Lucky for us tho, he turned around and hopped right back out the door in front of my hands. I regretted not following him outside tho. I mean he DID spend all that time coming up there to say hi! What a crappy way to treat a guest! I didn't mean to be rude. I wished I'd gotten a picture of him.

I poked my head back out a bit later, but it was too dark to see if he was still around. Oh well. He probably had froggier things to do. I made the joke to M's mother-in-law that maybe I should've kissed him and he would've turned into a prince. (Except I already found a prince that I like a lot - that's a whole 'nother blog tho!)

Tonight after we all retired to our respective rooms I looked up frog medicine because part of my beliefs is that when animals hop into your path like that, you need to hear their message. Jamie Sams' Medicine Cards gives a good basis to start understanding Mother Nature's missives. I knew frogs meant cleansing (they bring the rain to cleanse the Earth), but I did not remember that "...all water rites belong to Frog, including initiations by water." Well isn't that interesting since baptisms are exactly that, aren't they?

Once I read that, I realized he wasn't here to visit me, he came to bless the event. (How conceited do I feel now?! Sheesh. :( ) I can't wait to pass the message on to M tomorrow tho. Makes me feel a lot better too about participating in a ceremony I couldn't really relate to until now. I just love how things like that get explained even when I'm not asking a question directly. Divine alchemy is awesome.

I clicked on a couple more Google results about frogs (what did we EVER do without Google?!), and found more amusing tidbits that appealed to the ever-present child in me. One link offered this:

Frog is also strongly associated with magic and transformation. Beginning life as an egg, it becomes a polliwog, then a frog. It is thus a reminder to us that life is a miracle of change and transformation.

This message is particularly embodied in the story of the Frog Prince. In the Scottish version of this story, a queen who was ill could only be healed by a drink from the well of true water. When each of her three daughters tried to get this water, a monstrous frog refused to allow them access unless they agreed to marry him. The youngest daughter agreed and was able to heal her mother. She also later discovered that her unattractive bridegroom was actually a prince.

M's husband's family has strong Scottish genes, as do I, so this really caught my attention. I'm familiar with the tale of the Frog Prince, but I didn't know it was of Scottish origin. (And of course everything we read on the Interwebs is absolutely the truth! haha) I did another Google search to see if I could find the whole story in its native format, but got sidetracked by the Wikipedia entry about it. From that entry I clicked another link that explains that the Brothers Grimm adapted their frog fable from "The Well of the World's End," which, when you read what THAT is by clicking here, you'll realize is actually the origins of the Cinderella story (and what is my most favoritest fairy tale evar? You got THAT right!).

I thought the relation to Cinderella was even quirkier because before I came to Texas, I asked M what would be an appropriate gift for her son on this occasion. She suggested a biblical story. I was like "HAVE YOU MET ME? Where would I find such a thing? In the fiction section of Barnes & Noble?" I could hear her amused sigh two states away, and she said she was sure I could find something, and when I did, would I please write a dedication in the front. I already knew what to get actually - Neale Donald Walsh wrote a great book called The Little Soul and the Sun, which bridges the gap between our beliefs quite nicely, so that's what I bought. On the title page I wrote a brief note and signed it "Your Fairy Godmother" because by jove, I've always been partial to the Fey, and if I get to be a Godmother I want to be a magical one! (And HELLO... favoritest story includes Godmother of the Fairy sort!)

So what is the moral of this lengthy yarn? For one, everything is tied together no matter what we believe, and sometimes even more so BECAUSE of what we believe. For two, everything eventually comes full circle. And really, how awesome is the perspective when you make it all the way around the entire twisted sphere and a bigger picture comes into focus?

Let's just hope I don't accidentally turn anyone into a toad tomorrow at the ceremony.

I Want To Live Like I Know What I'm Leaving

I’ve never experienced more often than in San Diego, that sudden, surreal sense of complete wonderment like you get when you’re having a lucid dream and you are unexpectedly aware that you’re dreaming even as you do it. You’re just existing along in an other-dimensionly state, then it’s like, “Wait… what? I’m where? Oh wow!” It’s a very weird feeling – like you’re not sure what to believe is real or part of your imagination. Of course, really, it’s ALL part of your imagination, but that abrupt insight that perhaps NONE of this is real – awake or asleep, no matter which direction you look - will shake your psyche up, sometimes gently and sometimes not. I’ll bet it’s similar to waking up from a coma (not that I have any wish to have a personal point of comparison on that one!).

The thing I’m talking about happens when I’m entirely awake – well, in as much as life is “an awake dream.” It sneaks up on me and pounces… I’m just doing something mundane (usually driving) and suddenly I’m all “OMG, I LIVE in California. [Like this is news to me.] I LIVE here. Like EVERY DAY. And I’m HAPPY.” I don’t know how else to describe it besides some kind of spiritual awakening. Maybe it’s the happy part that shocks me the most. I don’t think I’ve ever been so consistently happy, but then I’ve also never had so much time to do whatever the hell I want either. I’m a little afraid that will change when I have to go back to work, but I’m not considering that right now at any length.

Making it doubly odd (to me at least) is that these thoughts sometimes come in the middle of a day where I feel I’ve accomplished nothing, and I’m getting a bit depressed over some trivial matters. I’m headed down an ugly spiral when all Thought pauses on a step, then an updraft like this hits me and deposits me with a rude thunk at the top of the staircase. I sit there rubbing my third eye like I’ve just been poked awake by the Gods. Hmmm. What was it I was busy getting upset about? Oh, nevermind.

It’s not the fact of my geographical location that puts me in awe (well, a little, because energies are different in different places and this just happens to be a place I jive with), it’s that I’m actually DOING something that once seemed almost impossible – certainly I had no plan and no assured funding when I set out on this path, but here I am and I’m still surviving. (And ever, ever so slowly chipping away at the debt I made getting here.)

Moving here started as a radical idea (so was New Jersey so apparently radical ideas work for me) and I’ve brought it to reality and I’m doing it. I’m still not quite sure how, but it's happening. I’m still here. No one has knocked down my door and said YOU MUST STOP THIS RIGHT NOW. Kind of like when you first move out of your parents’ house and suddenly realize if you want to eat ice cream for breakfast, no one is going to invade the kitchen and say, “No you can’t.” Or even “No you shouldn’t.” (And hell yeah – that’s why I still eat ice cream or brownies or cake or pancakes [oh wait...] for breakfast sometimes!)

I know I’m successful like this in plenty of smaller ways – often even – but moving somewhere and LIVING there and not needing anyone else’s help (at age 40 you’d think this would be normal, but I suppose I never got over that) is still sometimes a shock. Like hey, I actually CAN do this and I’m not going to die! Awesome!

I’m not sure how long living in California has been a dream even – certainly it’s not one of those life-long things because I only really started thinking about it a couple years ago. Or maybe I’m wrong; when my mother and I traveled to San Francisco when I was in 6th grade, I knew there was something special about this state even back then because it’s one of those memories I recall often and clearly. But I don’t remember craving living here (or at least knowing if I moved again, California would be the goal) until a few years back.

The smallest things usually set off the feeling. Noticing how many cars have surf-related stickers on the back. Or driving along The 5 (local lingo for Interstate 5) and seeing the vast expanse of ocean off to the side. Sitting in a coffee shop I’ve read about in a blog or hearing of something happening in LA and knowing I'm close enough that if I wanted to attend, it's an option. Weird!

I’ve often thought of these feelings as being like living in a movie. Maybe that’s why they have such an impact on me. I mean don’t we all really want to live a Hollywood life 24 hours a day deep down? Hollywood makes everything so flawless and the story almost always has a happy ending, right? Who doesn’t want that?

Well I haven’t reached some of the happy endings I’ve had normal “conscious” dreams about yet, but I’m working on them. Trouble with those is that when they don’t come to fruition in the timeline I plan, it causes stress or worry unless I can convince myself enough that stress and worry are futile and if I’m not getting what I expected, then the timing just isn’t right yet. (It’s one thing to know this in your head, quite another to convince your heart.)

But these unconscious dream-goals – are they really dreams or are they a sudden awareness, that hey – you are right where you are meant to be in that moment? But aren’t we always right where we’re meant to be in any given moment? I mean the Universe works perfectly, so why wouldn’t we be? What makes SOME of those most seemingly insignificant moments so powerful while the events that you’ve consciously worked for don’t elicit the same reaction?

Whatever it is, I’m glad they happen.

I’m actually sitting in the car outside the grocery store typing this in a very cramped, uncomfortable position because for once I have the computer with me when good blog material crystalized in my head. Ironically, I spent four hours prior to now in two different coffee shops trying to get inspired to write something. All I got was severely caffeinated. What a thing. Maybe I should haul the Mac around with me more often cuz I never lack for thoughts to share, it’s just that the ideas seem to evaporate when I’m within easy reach of the keyboard. The car, the shower, the toilet (oh yes) are when I get inspired. Imagine. But there’s nowhere to record the thoughts when you’re stuck in such places and they slip back into the ether like so many drops of rain in the Pacific.

Fortunately this time I was prepared so I’m glad to be sharing this, however, I’d better go get my groceries before the store closes or before they send the cops over to check out what the chick in a parking lot is doing on the computer. Surely it’s porn! Or witchcraft! Or worse! People are so suspicious of anything outside “the norm.” Pity. That’s usually where all the good stuff happens.

Soundtrack: Awakening by Switchfoot

She's Like So Whatever

Have you ever done something you knew was going to come back around and slap your karma silly but you didn’t regret it one single little bit? I’m not normally prone to drama, but once in awhile it comes looking for me.
My landlady – who is AWESOME – gave me two huge silk trees a couple weeks ago because they didn’t sell at her garage sale and she didn’t want to deal with hauling them to Goodwill. (She only lives a half mile up the road from me.) She knows I’m a craigspert (i.e., expert with craigslist.com) so she offered them to me if I wanted to sell them, and she didn’t even want a share of the money! This is not the first time she’s practically given me the rent this way. Like I said – total sweetheart. <3
When she dropped them off, they had price tags that said $60 crossed out and marked down to $50. I can’t believe no one bought them for that price. They were both in excellent shape and not even dusty, and given their size and quality, a designer would charge upwards of $150 each for them. I put them on craigslist for $80 each including delivery and today they sold. Yay! I had to drive 45 minutes to Mira Mesa to drop them off, but it was worth the gas to make the $160. Pure profit is a beautiful thing.
Turns out the lady that bought them only lives 2 miles from my – dare I say – boyfriend. You see, our relationship (like everything else in my life) is not easily pigeonholed by conventional terms. This male friend and I have been seeing a lot of each other (A LOT) over the last several months, and the mutual respect and love has carved a groove a little deeper than either one of us intended. Even so, we have both agreed that our long-term goals do not mesh precisely; therefore we have not made any commitment to each other. I accept that and I understand the reasons why, even tho my hormones sometimes commit mutiny.
He’s the one that started the name-calling tho. I thought perhaps “girlfriend” was just a convenient adjective to describe me to his buddies since I am his friend and I am a girl and humans are territorial creatures, but he’s stated it means more to him, and his actions match his words. He seemed pleased when I started referring to him as my boyfriend, so no trouble there. My heart ran away with that even while my brain was shaking its finger saying, “You know this doesn’t change anything; he’s still not thinking marriage. He’s made that clear.” My Cinderella complex was like, “Yeah yeah, whatever. Shut up. Can’t you see I’m busy swimming in this romance here?”
This is why men and women are generally not best friends outside of romance, because eventually one gets too keen on the other and it ruins the whole thing. Damn the bad luck of owning the boobs, cuz it’s usually that one which falls first. ::sigh::
Up until now, when he’s chosen to spend an evening with someone else, I’ve just swallowed my emotions and reminded myself I have no claims on him. It’s been easy because he’s not spending multiple evenings with anyone serious and he’s certainly not an ass about it or anything. If anyone has been an ass, it’s been me because I can’t seem to keep my mouth shut about my own isolated incidents (which mostly happen because I feel like they should, since I know this won’t last forever). Some might say that’s passive aggressive, but really it’s just me being dreadful at keeping secrets. I hate secrets because they make me paranoid.
I know there will come a day when he will find the right girl and I will have to let go and it will suck hard (except for the pints of Haagen-Dazs), but until then I’m having a really good time. Live in the moment, right? Appreciate what is NOW. I totally get that. I try really hard to walk my talk. He’s not breaking any promises, so it’s up to me to be an adult about it and keep myself in check. I’m just enjoying it while it lasts. I keep deciding it’s worth the pending heartache.
Do you see the big BUT(T) coming?
A woman he used to date from across the pond arrived Tuesday to visit for a month. I know that Europeans vacation for much longer than Americans do, so I don’t find the timeline suspect. I also know she’s not staying in his guest room (or a hotel if you get my drift), but again – I have no claims so I can’t complain. What bothers me is that suddenly I’ve gone from “girlfriend” and primary companion to secret (??!) dinner date after the Mon/Thurs workout, and the sleepover ritual has been terminated until further notice. He was even checking his watch after we ate. It’s like he got married overnight. (And no, he did NOT. God, I hope I’m not THAT blind.)
When I asked what the deal was, he said his foreign friend was not mature enough (emotionally) to understand our relationship. (Read: he didn’t tell her what he was doing.)
Christ, haven’t I been here, done that? What did I miss the last 10 times around? How am I here again?
That’s rhetorical.
I admitted I was jealous, and told him calmly and rationally about all my icky thoughts on the situation; how I felt very excluded even on a regular friend level. I am not this shut out when his family visits, or even when he has parties attended by State-side ex-girlfriends. He stuck with the “she wouldn’t understand” (read: approve) story. The Inside Voice said fuck her – she needs to grow up.
Instead I said, “Then why are you still friends with her? People that didn’t get Mark’s and my openness didn’t hang around long. If you can’t run with the big dogs, then stay on the porch.”
THEN out my mouth came “Fuck her, she needs to grow up.” (Because THAT was so mature. And yes, Jess, I see the irony.)
Points to him for letting that go.
He went on to say she’s way more into him than he is into her. It sounds lame, but it’s something he’s expressed before outside of these circumstances and it’s been my own experience with him, so why would I think he’s lying? She IS a friend, which is why she’s staying at his house. They have a history, and he and I aren’t exclusive. Just because he likes her too doesn’t mean he likes me any less, so case closed.
My own logic does nothing to assuage my stinging emotions.
To support his claim, he explained he’s not that into her because she’s gained weight. Knowing how freaky he is about his own weight and his penchant for trophy women, I have to assume this is also true, but neither does this lessen my jealousy. What IS it with the stupid human emotions?? I should know better.
To preserve the scrap of dignity I was clinging to, I asked him not to come over again until she’s gone home. (I have some decisions to make between now and then anyway.) Which means we won’t see each other at all for a month – not even for the party he’s throwing, which he did invite me to even tho she will still be there. I have truly warred with myself on whether I’m cutting off my nose to spite my face, or whether I’m just enforcing my boundaries. Just when you think you’ve got all the grey areas covered, the Universe makes a greyer one.
I relented on IM/email, so we will remain in contact for as long as I can stand sitting on my Ego. This is weird in so many ways after spending almost every day together for so long. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth (which my friends Ben and Jerry are going to help fix).
So I told you all that so I could tell you what I don’t regret…
Todaaaaayyyyy I told him on IM that I sold the trees because we like to share our craigslist triumphs. I also told him I was delivering them 2 miles from his house, to which he replied, “Why don’t you drop by for a game of pool?” (He just bought a new pool table and he’s been having fun seeing how much he can screw up his game just so I can keep up. What a doll. :) I dunno if he really thought I would or not, but hey, he offered and I MISS him and it’s only been a handful of days. And then the ‘tude kicks in and I decide perhaps the balls on the pool table aren’t the only ones that need to be dug out of the pockets. I mean seriously. How old are we?
(HA – quick note here: A ladybug just flew in, buzzed my head, and landed on the wall in front of me. It’s been dark out for awhile; I was under the impression that ladybugs are not generally nocturnal, so I take this as a sign. I Google “ladybug medicine” and I get this page, which is weird in its own right because the title is “Follow the Dragonfly.” HELLO. Universe is texting me again. Except it’s not limited to 160 characters since it’s all Infinite and stuff. Haha
In summary, ladybug represents energies of renewal and regeneration. It teaches us to release worry and “let go and let God.” Shows us how to stop harming ourselves. And lastly says to get out of our own way and allow Great Spirit to enter.
::sigh:: Crap. Ok, I suck.
I don’t know how atheists can believe there is NOTHING [even if it is an advanced version of our own selves] watching from some other dimension we haven’t even dreamed of yet.
Moving on…)
So I deliver the trees, collect almost $200 and pass go. This is the part I’m sure karma will swing back on me for, but perhaps I also learned a valuable lesson already. Afterall, isn’t that what we’re here for? To provide each other with learning opportunities?
First let me say, his take on the following was that his ladyfriend avoided confronting me, like some kind of mouse. Could be true – certainly he knows her and I don’t, and it’s always amazing how a group of people may all witness the same event but come away with different versions of what happened. Another girl he was fooling around with when we first started hanging out was also very mousy when I finally located my pride and put myself in front of her to say hi at a party, so it’s not an unreasonable conclusion. We do tend to pick the same type of people over and over in our lives. But his view is not at all what I experienced.
When I asked him tonight how much trouble he was in, he said none. He could be blowing it off to avoid any further bullshit from me (which is entirely understandable; I’m not exactly being reasonable over this). His answer gave me some perspective on why I may have experienced it the way I did. (As in my personal history skewing my perception, much like how we see light refracted through a prism.)
Perhaps my version only took place in my own head (well, of course it did, but you know what I mean), but I’m learning to trust my sixth sense and a lot of it was hitting that radar, not the standard five. We’ll never know since the other two parties wouldn’t be inclined to talk about it (nor would at least one party be capable of self-examination to that depth from what I’ve heard), but it’s food for thought. This must be how people end up in the nuthouse.
Anyway… here’s what * I * saw happen.
He had given me a key to his house, so I used it. Loudly. I walked in and yelled jokingly, “Ok, put your clothes on and let’s play some pool.” No response. The house was weirdly quiet. Hmm. Maybe he knew they were leaving which is why he extended the invite. Oh well. It’s not like I made a special trip. We do play pranks on each other. If I was interrupting anything I figured I would’ve heard something immediately, so that wasn’t it.
But there’s rustling coming from the garage. I go check it out and he’s putting the arcade back together. Oh good, he just didn’t hear me and we get to play afterall. He looks only slightly surprised to see me.
After greetings, we set up a game. I’m racking up balls and he’s checking his cue stick when his ladyfriend appears at the top of the stairs. He tries to introduce me as his friend that helped him change all his furniture thru craigslist (which is entirely true :) but I can see she’s not buying it and his words seem to fade at the end of his sentence. I’m amazed that he sounds not like his normal cocky self, but more like a little boy trying to avoid trouble. Who is this guy? I know he’s told me he hasn’t always been as confident as he is nowadays, but wow. I almost feel guilty for coming over. Almost.
She barely glances at me and mumbles some acknowledgment with an accent I can’t help but find charming, which of course sends my Ego into a whirlwind of conflict. (Fuck charming – but it was charming – I said fuck charming! I’m not ready to let go of my jealousy!)
I try a dry “nice to meet you,” which garners not just NO response, but the true meaning of DEAD AIR becomes crystal clear to me at that moment.
She keeps staring at him and doesn’t look at me again. The silence is beginning to stretch.
There are people I know, and others that have been described to me as “being able to suck all the fun right out of a room just with their presence,” but this is the Dyson of uncomfortable vacuums. For a split second I am paralyzed as if we’ve been caught doing something naughty (not even close – we’re at opposite ends of the table). I think I was actually holding my breath. Then suddenly I find the whole thing terribly amusing and I have to beat down a laugh.
It looks like he is in a lot of trouble (or perhaps we woke her up? But I doubt it). I had to rethink whether the words I heard in my head were actually spoken by her, and honestly I don’t think they were, but they came across loud and clear and even in her accent, which I had only heard in one mumbled sentence two seconds ago. I heard “Why is she here?” You know – in that clenched teeth tone, but only inside my head.
The lack of sound now feels like a lead weight infusing itself into every particle in the room and dropping effectively to the floor. No one said anything. This could all be just me, I dunno, but it was absolutely surreal. I always joke about “thinking things really loudly” but in this case, it might be the truth.
I think he’s lucky to be alive because I wasn’t real sure looks couldn’t kill right then. She seemed to be totally staring him down. He was kinda all deer-in-the-headlights, which was odd because normally he’s quite brash in a fantastic way. I was surprised by the continued non-conversation.
After a very long pause she pretty much just turned and went back in his bedroom without another word. No goodbye or anything. I didn’t see her again for the rest of the time I was there.
We played three or four games, during which he must’ve lost his mind - he invited me to stay for lunch and to go to the beach with them after. (Black’s Beach – which is clothing optional. Because that wouldn’t make things more uncomfortable AT ALL. That is the impetuous guy I’m familiar with, although I did not hear a true teasing challenge in his voice like normal. Maybe it just lacked the flirty part. He sounded tired. Maybe he didn’t sleep well. Who knows.)
Ya know, he has the most powerful motorcycle on the market and he likes to get all dangerously fast on it, but I wasn’t taking his DEATH WISH so seriously.
On the way home, my Ego was really having a field day of evil thoughts about what I could’ve said.
“Oh, nice to meet you – you’re not nearly as fat as he described.”
“Oh, nice to meet you - do you mind if I come up and get my toothbrush? I left it in his bathroom.” (True fact.)
“Oh, nice to meet you – do you have trouble with the cats laying on you all night too?”
I know I sound psycho, but I'm much meaner in my head than I ever would be in the real world. The chances of me expressing those thoughts unless seriously provoked was nonexistant. Just the fact that I went to his house was out of the norm for me. I am usually the mouse. But like I said, I don’t regret it a bit.
Anyway, reviewing her non-response I can see why he may think that she was simply avoiding confronting me. However, I also have intimate knowledge of the nature of women and even those that are demure and keep their mouths shut are usually seething underneath, so I’m equally as sure that even if she never did show her anger, it wasn’t like it didn’t exist.
But again, perhaps that’s just me. My experience with this type of confrontation has always been angry, so I acknowledge that may be the sole reason I felt all that. Our worlds really do only happen in our own heads afterall, which is why everyone has a different experience of the same event.
I’m glad I gathered the guts to go, even if it was for the wrong reasons and creates entries on my karmic record. I figure at the very least, if a big dose of reality is getting spread around, I’m sure as hell not going to be the only one without a knife. One of these days I hope to evolve tho and not get into or feel this kind of pain over such silly emotional matters.
If you make a comment, please don't "take sides."
Soundtrack: Girlfriend by Avril Lavigne

What Is Is Not Negotiable

(Written yesterday, Thursday)

One of our chinchillas, Hopi, has been chewing her foot to the point of bleeding the last week or so. Every morning it looks like someone has been murdered in her cage and I wipe down the shelves again. This has happened before and I’ve had her to multiple doctors who all give me the same conclusion: there is nothing they can do because they can’t define what’s causing her behavior. It would be so much easier if chinchillas spoke English.

There have been blood tests and scrape tests, pokes and prods and several veterinary Mercedes payments thrown at this issue, but no answers. Hopi was a rescue so her medical history before the 6+ years she’s been in my care is a mystery. We don’t even know how old she is. Sometimes the Universe is just like “Here is your lesson in Acceptance. There is no textbook; you get no explanations. Pop quiz coming up soon. Good luck and Happy Thursday.”

ARRRRGGGG.

My best guess for her Emo attitude (definition: despondent outlook and erratic penchant for self-mutilation) is a chain reaction of lack of attention and diet imbalance causing depression. (And that goes for humans too.) It seems like if she has too many treats and/or not enough scratching behind the ears, that’s when the trouble starts. Normally a couple days with more focused love and less goodies fixes the problem, but this time her conduct has continued despite my efforts. This morning I noticed her food bowl was untouched and the hay dish barely sifted through. Altho she still hopped to the door when I opened it, not eating is a very, very bad sign. Even though I wouldn’t trade my time with my animals for anything, this is definitely the crappier part of having pets.

So I’m standing at the sink putting dishes in the dishwasher, thinking about how I’m going to have to tell Katy that we have yet another fuzzy rat possibly gearing up to transcend into her next form. I’m already hearing the drama and distress in my head from the other end of a phone call not yet made (nevermind my own despondency).

This kind of thing tends to trigger my shittier, child-like emotions about parenthood until one stubborn thought pushes all else out of my head: IT’S NOT FAIR IT’S NOT FAIR IT’S NOT FAIR.

In an effort to bring order back to the courtroom of my brain, my Higher Self bangs a gavel on my third eye and rises above the din saying, “How did we end up here again? What about it is not fair?”

Ego whines: “It’s not fair I always have to be the bad guy. As a single parent, I never get to be the good guy. If there’s bad news, I have to deliver it. If the kid is doing something wrong, I have to correct the mistakes. I’m the one to dispatch punishment for undesirable behavior and remind her what is the more acceptable path. I am the nag, the critic, the police, the pain in her ass (literally when she was younger) and the executioner. No one shares that burden with me – it’s all me, all the time. I NEVER get to be the good guy!”

(I submit as Exhibit A all the “I” and “me” statements in that complaint. Give it enough rope, and Ego will always hang itself. Higher Self just rolls its eyes.)

Logical Left Brain is on defense and reminds me, “Yeah, but it’s not like there’s never good news, or compliments to offer, or moments when you think your heart will bust open with pride over her accomplishments. Besides, even Katy says you’re the cool mom and all her friends think so too. You get to enjoy all that, and that’s when you get to be the good guy.”

All parts of The Brain nod in agreement that parenting is not always bad, however, Ego’s not ready to give up yet.

“Yeah, I’m the cool mom when things are GOOD. Why doesn’t someone else go tell her when pets are dying and deal with the tears? Whose shoulder do I get to cry on? Even though joyful times are sweet on their own, joy is doubled when shared with someone who has an equal level of investment and interest in the child, just as they say a burden is halved when shared. I never got to experience those higher levels of happiness as a parent because there was no one to share the joy with, so it’s not doubled, yet I still bear the entire responsibility of all the icky emotions. In my calculations, I got half the joy and double the burden of a regular two-parent system.”

(Which proves that my general suckiness at numbers and math extends to emotional arithmetic as well.)

Ego continues, “Just once (ok, maybe a lot) I would’ve liked to be the one Katy ran to saying ‘I did this bad thing that wasn’t really that awful and Dad says I’m grounded’ and I could be the hero and make it better. Instead I just get to deliver bad news.”

“Two-parent systems require a consistent, united front so that kind of action would be unwise. You’re just being a baby about telling her.” says Left Brain.

“Why don’t you go get a tall glass of shut the fuck up?” says Ego as it starts to go down.

Left Brain sighs. “What about family? They share in the joys. Why doesn’t that double it?”

Ego is quickly becoming blurry, but it still sulks, “Family is great, but the relationship between two parents, whether they’re together or not, is different and deeper when it concerns a child they made together. Different kind of bond.”

Higher Self concedes that point to Ego. Even a blind squirrel finds a nut once in awhile.

“So what you’re really saying is you’ve never accepted having to do this alone. It is only in our imagination that we assume the level of happiness would be increased or different if there were a second parent involved.”

Ego finally gives in. “Yeah, ok, it just sucks to do this by myself.”

I am tired of trying to interpret the Laws of Being Human, especially since Universal Law trumps all that anyway, so the entire mess adjourns indefinitely once again.

Deep down I know neither Hopi dying nor telling Katy nor being a single parent is a matter of fairness, it’s just What Is. I also know even if What Is sucks, you can't change it; you can only change how you choose to react to it and how much time and attention you choose to give it. It's always about your choices. Hmmm. I guess that means the Universe's pop quizzes are all multiple choice. haha

~*~

On a happier note, I stopped at Moonlight Beach this morning and sat for 30 minutes communing with the Pacific, sending out love and happy vibes to everyone I could think of, and imagining what the Switchfoot BroAm will look like in June when the beach is filled with surfers and music fans. Switchfoot is my second most favorite band ever. Their music is very happy, their lyrics are awesome, and Jon's (the singer) voice is cooly unique. Listening to them always puts me in a good mood. If you haven't heard them, check 'em out. Definitely worth your time.

I am still so amazed and grateful every day that I get to live here. It's no wonder California is the most populated state. What a beautiful place to Be.

~*~

(Written today, Friday)

Ok, true to the nature of my existence, right after I posted this the Universe gave me TWO signs (just in case I wasn't awake yet since I haven't had coffee...).

The first one was a Google ad that appeared next to my own writing for a site called Peace, Love, and Momminess. I don't usually click the ads on my blog, I'm just checking for grammar/punctuation errors, but the graphics on this one caught my eye. I clicked to see what the site was about. The top story today? "More Gratitude, Less Attitude." haha Yes, yes, I know. I was working on that.

That phrase made me think of a site I often visit called Great Day by Ralph Marston. Mark turned me on to it. The site gives a daily positive message and somehow it always seems to pertain to what I'm thinking when I check it (I don't check it every day). Today's inspiration from Ralph:

Interconnected

Taking positive action in one area of your life can lead to surprising improvements in many other areas of your life. For you are one whole person, and anything you do makes a difference in everything you are.

It all matters and it all affects you. The life you experience is the sum of every thought, every word spoken, every gesture and every effort.

If you find it difficult to be positive about one particular area of your life, then be extraordinarily positive about other areas of your life. That additional positive energy will spill over into all of your world.

All the parts of your life are interconnected in ways that it's difficult to even imagine. The result is that there are always plenty of opportunities for taking positive steps.

For even when you feel completely blocked in one area, there are many other areas of your life in which you can quickly and easily make improvements. Success and achievement feel great in whatever venue they occur.

Feel genuinely positive, even if it's just about one little thing. And the energy radiates through the entirety of your world.

I was already headed that direction, but thanks for the push Eternity. :D

I Could Totally Host An HGTV Show

I know I've been out of commission for almost a month, but deal with it. It's not that I haven't had any blog-worthy thoughts or stories, in fact, there have been tons; I just haven't made the time to write them down (shame, that). I am blessed with a full life.

Earlier this weekend my friend John and I found ourselves in Ikea looking for a ceiling fan for his living room. We recently refurnished the entire downstairs of his house using craigslist.com, moving his style forward from Early Fuck into something that will buy him some time to slap a ring on a woman's finger before she runs screaming to Pottery Barn. Although I'm good at putting together modern pieces from discount places, there are usually a couple things you just have to spring for to get the right effect in the time frame you want. Even so, "springing" doesn't mean you should ever pay suggested retail. (Please!) It may, however, require lowering yourself to shop in places that increase your karmic debt.

Trust me, Ikea hurts my soul almost as much as Walmart, but occasionally entering the labyrinth is a pain worthy of bearing in the interest of A Good Deal. Don't get me wrong; the original intent of the Swedish company is great: making the most out of limited resources/space/child labor in China. It's our overblown waddling American lifestyle that sodomized the Ikea concept until their giant blue box stores became the monolithic icon of rampant consumerism. But I digress.

Since wandering around with open, outstretched hands waiting for the fans to fall into them didn't work (much like my writing career), we asked a yellow-n-blue-clad stoner Totally Chill Shopping Assistant where their most stylish whirly-gigs might be. He tells us Ikea does not carry ceiling fans. Fan-tastic.

We turn to beat a hasty retreat, but like tourists navigating Manhattan, we realize we have no idea where we are, much less which direction the exit is. And the screeching children running amuck have long since eaten our trail of breadcrumbs.

Have you ever tried to escape Ikea? I think even the Marines would have a hard time finding their way out.

Both of us being humans of above-average intelligence (which ain't sayin' much these days), we follow the signs that say "exit" until we realize there are at least 100 of them and they are all pointing at each other. So much for logical deduction. Instead we make like cattle and follow the herd for about five miles until I'm distracted by kitchen accessories. This is Ikea's evil business plan. They force you (read: women) to walk past every single item they sell, hoping something will trigger the Impulse Buy Button in your head (generally, the male chromosomes lack this mechanism). If it's not bedding or furniture or artwork/plants/useless shelf items that strike your fancy, they'll throw some kitchen stuff in your face as a last resort. No one gets out without paying a toll. Hmm. Maybe Ikea originated in New Jersey, not Sweden.

Amidst the culinary paraphernalia, my eyes zero in on a 1/2 mile wide display of small bowls (probably rice bowls) that are the perfect size for John's nightly dose of ice cream. Did I mention John will keel over and die without this evening ritual? In fact, one night I threw out the melted, watery remains of a sundae because I assumed he was done, and he had such a reaction I thought one of us might end up in the ER. GAH. Did I also mention that my house has no appropriate sized bowls for this sacrament to the frozen snack Gods? (There is no such problem at his house of course. That would be like the Vatican running short on common sense... I mean alter boys... I mean wine glasses.) My cereal bowls are too big and my Pyrex petri dishes are too small. We can't have that. Ikea has won. They flipped my switch. (No, I have never been officially diagnosed with OCD.)

I trip and fall right into the brand marketing assuming the bowls are cheap, so yes, thank you, I'll take four. I justify my potential purchase by pointing out it's possible picking them up with intent to buy will open a space portal directly to the cash registers, shortly followed by the exit. Unfortunately that turns out not to be true. After several moments of debate during which the bland oatmeal color (like the white ones at his house are more interesting?) and lack of identifiable pricing is discussed, we put them back since there was no escape hatch offered with the purchase, and he is immune to The Ikea Brainwashing Technique.

Being the more daring of the duo, he takes a sharp left and whips us through one of the ominous grey doors that surely will set off fire alarms and sprinklers if opened, alerting police and causing mass panic in which we will be trampled by millions of zombie shoppers in their craze to get away from they-don't-know-what-but-it-must-be-bad-if-the-alarm- is-going-off... but hey! Whaddya know? It's a free pass to the exit! Do not pass go, do not spend $200! Go John! I knew I kept him around for a reason.

So we're out and on our merry way, but the seed of having those bowls has already been planted. (Wait, didn't we go in there for something else?) They are cute and convenient and The Brain has already rationalized their existence in my life. This usually means they will end up in my cabinet one way or another.

Today I was at the dollar store checking to see if anything on my grocery list was available there. Dollar stores are widespread here in SoCal and thank God for that. The Universe loves balance so perhaps this is Its way of trying to offset the ridiculous cost of living in Paradise. Of course, this benefit is only available to those who can transcend the belief that Whole Foods is the only grocery store worthy of your presence (it took HOURS of meditation I tell you), and that fluency in Spanish is not really required to shop there (they employ one stoner Totally Chill Manager in each store for translation purposes if you really need him).

Anyway, as I was picking up some pasta and Toasted wheat crackers (ok fine, and a can of the cappuccino flavored cream wafers that look like straws, which I feel sick from because it's so hard to stop eating them), it occurred to me that they may have something similar enough to the Ikea bowls to appease my need to have a perfectly sized dish for every occasion. A quick scan of the assorted "china" (I use that term loosely) revealed some very similar bowls indeed. Same bland oatmeal color, and wow - they're about the same size and shape. I grab four ($4! Beat that Ikea!) and head home.

I sink my new bowls into soapy water to loosen the stickers. As I peel back the first one from the bottom of the vessel, I see a familiar name stamped above all the fine print.

You got it.

Ikea.

Winter in Paradise

A couple Sundays ago I was headed home on the 15* and I noticed the Jeep’s temperature gauge said 80°. In January. How awesome is Southern California? Yeah yeah, I know, global warming, but my mood was too high to let those thoughts take over this time. The farther I went, the warmer it got… 82°… 84°…

When it hit 85° I said forget that To Do list, I’m going to the beach. (“Forget” is so the f word I used!) How often do those days come in the middle of winter? Ok, maybe a little more frequently here than other places, but c’mon! EIGHTY-FIVE and SUNNY. Who wouldn’t go to the beach? I’m not sure which would’ve been more of a waste: shirking responsibility for play time or staying indoors when it’s that beautiful outside. I blame T.S. for egging me on.

Time you enjoyed wasting is not time wasted.
~T.S. Eliot

A left onto the 78 pointed me straight at the afternoon sun. I flipped through the iPod while cars swerved around me until Marley’s melodic beat filled the car. “Is this love is this love is this love is this love that I’m feelin...” Why yes, Bob, I believe it is.

Cruising along I glance at the sky to my left and I see this:

Taking that picture proved even more dangerous than searching for music, so when this appeared:

I actually pulled over on the median to snap the shot. The boys from Miramar must’ve been feeling the groove too. Either that, or God is using our Armed Forces to send us love notes. How ironic would THAT be?

Seriously tho, how awesome is San Diego? Where else do you get hearts in the sky on a gorgeous day?

It’s been months since I had a chat with Big Blue**, and I’ve missed her lots. She was beautifully clear in voice and visage, and left a looking glass for me on the sand so I could reflect on some thoughts as I walked.

Anyone that says there are no seasons here just doesn’t know how to see them. Even on this warm, sunny afternoon, the shoreline appeared greyer, and the water abandoned on the sand gave it a wintry expression. Not unfriendly, just different. A quiet countenance, as if Summer was sleeping.

You see that tall white chimney where land meets ocean in the pic below? I walked all the way there. (Click on the pic to expand so you can see better.)

Strolling along, I found many things. Individuality...

and community…

love…

and some rocky parts…

that led to traps long buried in my thinking.

Sometimes you CAN see the forest for the trees tho,

and once you find the stairway out, it’s easy to step through and close the gate on old patterns.

Then you find more love all around you.

Maybe even enough to transcend the rocky parts.

Someone mentioned there was a big game on that day, but I have no clue what the score was. (Later I heard the Chargers were out of the playoffs, so I guess the score was Us: Some; Them: More.)

Towards the end of my walk, I found proof that all rivers really do lead to the sea,

and even if you're left balancing on one leg, at least you’re standing. And you still have wings to fly.

I am amazed and lucky and grateful to live here. There is truly nothing like watching that big orange ball sink into the ocean and paint the sky, and know while you’re watching the light fade that it is sunrise for someone else.

What an awesome day.

*"The 15" is how Californians refer to the north-south highway that is Interstate 15 out here. All roads are "the" then the number. Not I-15 or Route 15, but "the 15." I'm assuming it evolved from "The Number 15 Freeway" or something of that nature. Etymology majors correct me if I'm wrong.

**Big Blue = the Pacific Ocean

Social Distortion

Warning: this could be a very uncomfortable and strange entry for any family members or close friends to read, so don’t say I didn’t warn you.

I met some of the most interesting people last night at a party I wasn’t sure I wanted to attend, but now I’m glad I did. That’s what I get for having expectations. When will I learn? At least this twist of my presumptions was on the positive side.

My hands have that tingling going on as I’m trying to sort out my thoughts and type this. It’s the weirdest sensation – I usually only feel it in the center of my palms, but once in awhile an area around the middle of my chest gets involved (some would probably call it a chakra, blah blah – those new agey terms are so abused I’m loathe to use them). It’s not an itch but an intense sort of tension, like a forced awareness of every individual nerve ending. Sometimes it’s so strong it’s almost painful. I’ve tried every keyword I can think of to search out answers for why it happens, but no luck, so I have to chalk it up to dimensional energy I don’t understand yet. The hands are channels after all. I take it to be a good thing. But I digress.

A couple of the people I met inadvertently got me thinking about tantra (no, nothing funky was going on at this party – it’s just my own train of thoughts that led me here) so I spent a lot of time cruising the net reading up on it today. When I first met Mark 11 years ago he introduced me to the concept but we never really followed through (or so I thought), then after awhile circumstances in our relationship caused me to totally lose interest in all related things and it was shoved roughly a light year away, to a distant back burner galaxy in my brain. Funny how these things snap back - like a cosmic rubberband - at the speed of light, swatting your third eye hard enough to wake you from unawareness.

The more I read, the more I’m wondering if I’ve ever experienced anything NOT tantric when playing in that particular arena. (Not that I presume to know rituals and techniques, having never been taught, but from what I’ve read, I would be a quick study I’ll bet.) Most things they describe on the net I already do instinctively, and it’s not like I know anything special or read much about it, I’ve just always done it that way because it seemed like that’s how it should be.

My first time out I distinctly remember telling the guy to slow down, stop, let me feel this for a minute. He was like, “You want me to do what? Why?!” I didn’t know why other than it was just what I liked. At least he complied. I felt like I was directing a movie trying to tell him what to do and when (like I even knew what I was saying!) and observe what I felt all at once. Overall it was a good experience with someone I cared a lot about and I’m grateful for that. Everyone’s first time should be like that. Perhaps his patience and indulgence was an even greater benefit than I knew because ever since I’ve never been afraid to express what I like, and certainly I can’t recall any bad results.

But reading all this leaves me wondering: If that’s not the norm, then what is? Something that resembles porn? Gods, I hope not. Where is the love in that? Maybe this is why I’ve never understood people’s fascination with adult videos. I can’t imagine ever wanting to do it like that (with a few off-the-hook-hormone exceptions). I don’t care what noises the people are making, I can tell you most of it is fake, and it doesn’t even look like it feels good. (The bad acting is another story all together.)

One thing I don’t understand about tantra is the ritualistic nature of it. All this lighting of sage and preparing this and breathing like that before you even touch each other… seems a little hokey. (Except I see where breathing certain ways at certain times can improve feeling, but sitting across from each other, staring at each other trying to breathe in sync without yawning? Sounds totally boring to me. What is the purpose of that?) I probably don’t know what I’m talking about, having only read what I found online. Or it could be I’m just too impatient, which is probably something they insist you master to “do it right.” Discipline has never been my strong point, but if you ask me, discipline in this area sounds more like work than fun. I dunno. Like I said, I’m no expert, but some things they describe just sound like common sense, and if that’s not how everyone does it, well that explains a lot.

Maybe I’m just a hands-on kinda gal. By all means, set a mood with candles and music and whatever, and there’s a lot to be said for flirting and teasing and building the tension, but I always thought things were more enjoyable when you’re so in touch with your partner’s thoughts and emotions that when you get down to it, you’re wanting to do the same things at the same time anyway and there’s very little need for speaking or “rituals” like I was reading about. Then again, Mark has been the only one in that part of my life for so long, maybe I’m remembering prior experiences incorrectly. Who knows.

Maybe I’m just resisting anything remotely related to a religion that tells me “it must be done this way or else you’re not doing it right.” That’s never sat well with me. There are infinite threads of truth that weave our existence.

OMG – the Cosmos is so damn funny. My email just dinged so I check it and it’s a monthly new agey type ezine I get (unsolicited I might add) called SpiritSide. On the front page is “A Healthy Approach to Shameless Intimacy – Tantra!” I love when the Gods flirt with me.

Well anyway, this is not a subject I want to blog about in depth, but it’s what I was thinking about today. For anyone that doesn’t know what tantra is, please do yourself a favor and at least Google it or buy a book to investigate the general principles.

It could be the answer you’re looking for. ;)