A Perfect Reflection

Mirror, mirror, on the wall, we're just reflections after all. 

~*~

My stress level was through the roof tonight due to two jobs, several freelance projects, no sleep, and lots weighing on my mind for the weekend, plus I encountered a complete jerk on the road while driving home — like a rotten Ford cherry* sitting on top of a junkyard of frustration.

Yay.

NOT.

I was having such a hard time letting go of all that crappy emotion. I knew I needed to, I really wanted to, I was even desperate enough to flip through my mental rolodex of "tools" I've learned in various seminars, books, CDs, etc. (Aside from pure gratitude, I mostly liken those tools to glow sticks: fun in the moment while you're all playing together, but not terribly useful after twenty-four hours.)

Didn't matter - what I really wanted to do was just destroy something. It's all I could picture. It was insane - like my brain was warring with itself. The emotional side was completely flipped out while the logical side was observing and thinking how ridiculous it was that common sense and reasoning couldn't make me any less emotional.

Fortunately I can never bring myself to actual violence even if it would be let out in a constructive way (my beliefs lean too far toward Animism), but this negativity HAD to dissipate. (And I'm sorry, but punching pillows? That does NOT work. And the pillows will get you back by sticking your face with feather ends all night.)

For whatever reason, I took five minutes to check up on a few Facebook pages of people that always make me smile. Who knew that would be like a flood of Samadhi Advil for Off-the-hook Hormones?

I've met all the people I'm talking about, but some probably wouldn't know me. Just thinking about them though was like an instant hug (and only one is famous, smartypants friends who think they know who I'm talking about). People have no idea how truly far-reaching their calming, peaceful presence is. There's nothing (and everything) extraordinary about them. They just are who they are, but in their Being is this amazing gift to humanity. I am so grateful for their gifts.

As I scrolled pages and clicked on a video or pictures, this came to mind:

When I look at you, I see the part of me that is Love.

Sounded like truth, so I'm writing it down and sharing it.

Who does that for you?† Send some gratitude their way now.

No, really. I'll wait.

I hope maybe sometimes I offer that to others. (Can't say I'm confident about being that these last couple months tho. Working in an office creates a lot of stress for me. Still trying to resolve that.)

Some people's light just shines so bright it can reach through any conjured darkness and once again illuminate what's happy in yourself, bringing things back into balance. Thank goodness.

(Photo by Bill Bell)

* Yes, it was red, and I just now got the irony of the fact that it was a Ford Focus. Well played, Universe.

† In re-reading I realized how you hear that sentence in your head probably says a lot about your emotions. Did you read it "who does that for you?" or "who does that for you?" I meant it in the latter expression.

I Am Grateful For So Many Choices

Jason Mraz posted today to promote help for organizations who are trying to end the underground slave trade that still survives in our society. I was going to just make a short comment on his blog post as I usually do, but I ended up writing so much I figured I'd post it here instead for anyone caring to read all that verbage. I don't like to fill up his comments with really long dissertations of my thoughts.

So the original post he made is HERE.

I put the first two paragraphs below in his comments, with a link back to here in case some wanted to read ALL my thoughts. I guess if you're not a fan of Mraz's blog, it's best to read his post before reading the rest of mine so you're not lost!

My complete reply is:

I agree with you, Jason, that education is so important - through education the slave trade will end itself. I believe it's better to get at the root of the problem to stop the growth, rather than simply alleviate the symptoms.

I am grateful for people who have the resources to do both - support education, AND support those willing to reach into the fire to extract the souls that may truly desire change - those that request help in switching directions on the path they're walking and then follow through. Thank you for being you and for using your voice wisely. :)

I know this will probably not be a popular opinion, but the girls that were "rescued" had a choice in the beginning to walk away from anything the pimps may have offered them. Why didn't they? I don't believe anyone enslaves anyone else. I believe people allow themselves to be enslaved, and then get in so deep they need help to get back out. It's like falling in a hole.

After reading/watching/hearing so much research on why people make "bad" choices, I have formed an opinion that perhaps it's a reaction to fear. Fear of lack, fear of non-survival, fear of non-acceptance from society. Except what our society doesn't really teach us in school is that we are not the ONLY society on this planet - our money-based lifestyle is not the only way to survive, and indeed is not even necessarily the "best" way (if there is one). There are plenty of indigenous cultures that live close to the Earth, without money, and they survive just fine (if we'd quit being such mega-land consumers!), and they are generally happier, more disease-free, and more balanced in their minds than our society is. Imagine that. The only reason our society doesn't see it this way is because they are different from us, and we have become intolerant to those that are labeled "different." So when people in our society turn to things like drugs or prostitution thinking this will fix their lives or their money problems, is it because they fear living closer to the Earth? Do they fear being different? Are they fearful of non-acceptance from the rest of our money-ridden society? Do they think they won't survive at all?

Fear is the disease. Gratitude is the cure. In the meantime, education promotes healing. Just my opinion.

To alleviate fear, I apply education. Book learning and internet research is great, but nothing beats real world experience. If you can't get real world experience, guess what? Imagination works just as well and sometimes even brings new things into existence! :) Experiencing how other societies live, learning what's good (or not) for your body & mind, knowing what practices promote health and which tear it down and then actually having the self-esteem to DO the things that make you happy and say no thanks to the things that lead down a fear-filled path - I wish that with a healthy dose of imagination for EVERYONE on Earth.

When I look at things like slave trade - or people we label as criminals in general - from another perspective, I find I am grateful to those folks because they show me a path I do NOT want to go down. They are the signposts that say "Here, there be dragons." (And seriously? When did dragons get such a bad reputation? Maybe they were just misunderstood! :) I've had some unfortunate experiences with criminals... I'm not saying it's fun, I'm saying if you lose, don't lose the lesson. Often I find the reason people have put on their victim t-shirt and continued spreading a negative story is because they forget to find what they wanted to learn from the experience, therefore they keep drawing negative experiences to themselves. There are no victims on our globe. We all have free will and we all make choices that affect our path. Even as children. Our choice may be as simple as deciding to change perspectives. Once I see any "bad" experience I may have from a learning perspective, it's easier to tuck away the knowledge and move on in my life to something better and happier.

Personally I believe God (or whatever label you choose) only sends us angels. Some of them are dark angels, but they are all angels nonetheless. Criminals are dark angels AND they serve a great purpose to those of us not wanting to walk their path. They help remind us to stay focused instead on happiness. I am so grateful for that.

Everyone has the capacity to think like this. They only need to be shown that there is more than one path to choose from. That's where education comes in. :)

Again - just my two pesos.

I Am Grateful For Imagination

My habit of thought over the past couple decades has been that we have our salary rates all wrong in this society. We pay those in Hollywood or sports millions of dollars to create a couple hours of entertainment for us while our teachers and firemen and emergency response teams are doing their work mostly on good morals and shoestring budgets. It didn't seem fair.

However, today, I received a different perspective out of the blue. I was watching a YouTube video of a conversation between Richard Dawkins and Neil deGrasse Tyson, and although I've realized this before, it was not quite in this way: science has created things that used to only be science fiction from Hollywood. Would they have created these technologies WITHOUT Hollywood first dreaming them up?

Einstein of course has the famous quote, "Imagination is more important than knowledge." I've always believed that to be true in my head, and now I realize perhaps it has moved down to my heart.

Is the economic pay scale of the USA not a perfect example of that quote? Who do we pay the most? The ones with imagination (Hollywood at least), or the ones with knowledge (educators and heroes)?

Scientists' minds generally lean toward logic and fact finding - they want to prove things work or exist or figure out why something is true. We consider them "at the forefront of technology" but are they really? Maybe scientists are actually the ones at the end of the line. What if the creative geniuses in Hollywood are the ones blazing the trail of evolution and we don't even realize it?

A logical mind that seeks facts is not normally the same type of mind that envisions things so far out that the majority of people on the planet hadn't even dreamed of it. (There are always exceptions of course - Tyson being one of them I think - and those are truly remarkable people with minds that are balanced in both creativity and logic.)

A specific example is another YouTube video I saw about a guy that created a machine to turn plastic back into petroleum. Most people in first world countries now have also heard of biofuel - breaking down what we consider garbage into usable fuel. Where do these ideas come from (at least some of them)? Most people from the 80s will remember the movie Back to the Future. Christopher Lloyd's crazy scientist character uses garbage to fuel the DeLorean time machine at one point. (I'm sure there are earlier examples, but that's the first one that came to mind.) That is now POSSIBLE in our real world (and actually has been for some time). It's not affordable for most, or prevalent in our society yet, but neither was TV when it was first invented. Or cell phones. Or cars. Or dozens of other technologies that have become commonplace perhaps because a scientist saw a cool, convenient gadget in a movie or a tv show (or in the case of 19th century inventors, perhaps heard an idea from a storyteller of some sort) and said, "I can figure out how to make that real!" And let's not forget the creative minds in companies like Apple who can come up with a product out of seemingly nowhere (iPods!) that we never knew we couldn't live without.

So perhaps our Hollywood staff is not as overpaid as I thought. I mean what value would you put on evolution? On advancing our thoughts and ideas? On education? Does it even really matter if we advance and get smarter and make new things? IS it even "getting smarter" or just becoming different? I guess it depends on the roads we choose, which is based on creativity, not always logic.

"Roads? Where we're going, we don't need... roads."

And in the opposite vein - what of our "heroes?" The firemen and policemen and EMTs that save lives (some would add soldiers to that, but war is a whole other subject I'm not getting into here). I'm always the first to admire and thank emergency response people for their "underpaid service," but is our ability to prolong our lives actually what's mucking up the planet? Should we be thanking the ones that save us? From this new perspective, I'm not sure.

Certainly I was grateful to everyone involved is saving my grandparents' lives when they had a car accident about a year ago, but then again maybe it's a selfish thing for me to want my grandparents to live forever. I don't think even *I* want to live in this particular body forever! How boring would that be? About as boring as only getting to read one book, or only watching one movie... forever. Why would I wish that on them? Forever is a VERY long time. (And if you get into the philosophical question of "why are we here" I can imagine only being able to "live" one story forever might have been the impetus for multiple lives... but that's a whole other blog!)

Perhaps we are playing God or not facing our fears by keeping people alive for so long, and the consequences are the typical collection of physical inconveniences that we now label "old age." Are years of incontinence and dementia something to celebrate? :\ Perhaps we have advanced in our physical technologies, and we pat ourselves on the back for our so-called advances in social sciences, but are we actually still in the dark ages about death and other lifetimes?

Who would we be if we did not fear death?

Perhaps my grandfather could've avoided all the indignities and challenges of emphysema and Alzheimers if he had not been wearing a seatbelt and was therefore removed from the trouble of dealing with all that for another several years. My grandmother was NOT wearing a seatbelt and would have died without the help of the Intensive Care Unit. It's really a miracle she survived. I am extremely grateful to spend a few more years pestering her over the phone (we live on opposite coasts), but was it fair to keep her here only to be trapped in the house with my grandfather who needs someone to babysit him like a child at all times due to the medical problems he has now? What kind of existence is that (especially for a woman that is still very mobile herself)? Obviously a car crash full of anxiety and fear as you transition into another state of being is not an ideal way to go (I am not saying I wish that upon anyone, especially not my grandparents!), but perhaps we've created the ways in which we most commonly leave this existence through our misunderstanding of death and consequential fear of it.

If you knew in your heart all deaths have the possibility of being peaceful and happy, would you be more accepting of it and therefore be okay when your loved ones take that journey? Many people pay lip service to the idea, but underneath their concept of death, and what they believe in their heart about it, is still based in fear. I believe it will take a shift in a majority of society's consciousness to change that.

Native American elders (from a century ago, before the casinos) would simply decide when it was their time to leave, and they would go out in the woods or plains or wherever and have a peaceful, purposeful death. Same with Buddhists. We don't have nearly enough movies about that. Instead the film industry makes the most money from perpetuating our imaginings of a violent death, which in my opinion just creates more violent deaths in our world. It's a vicious circle.

By the way, I still think our teachers are WAY WAY underpaid. They give us a basis for learning to survive in this society. The trouble with teachers is that we have a limited idea of who our teachers are. To me, EVERYONE on this planet is a teacher in some way to everyone they come in contact with. Should we all get paid appropriately for what we teach each other? Well actually, I think we do. We have a beautiful Earth as our school, friends and family to love and support us, and most importantly our imaginations which fill in all the space between. To me, those things are the best payment of all.

Well… now my thought associations appear to have come full circle in the edits, so YAY for that!

I still haven't justified sports - perhaps that's truly only entertainment - but now I can allow for the possibility that maybe we're not as screwed up as we think in what we put value on.

I Am Grateful For Sunsets

For every afternoon in summer when I think surely I will die of heatstroke due to my western-facing windows and a condo without central air conditioning, I get the MOST AWESOME SUNSETS EVER in winter, and the ability to keep the drapes open for the entire thing, while the last rays warm my bedroom for the evening ahead.

(This pic was actually taken on my birthday, Dec 30, 2010, at Oceanside beach, but you get the idea. I am often too busy watching the sunset to take pics of each one!)

The Infinite List

I know I've been more silent than I've wanted to be this past month. I really do love writing, but my brain goes so much faster than my fingers have time to catch up with. No sooner do I have a subject to write about than it's replaced by another thought and another and another, until I give up trying to get to any one of them or have any hope of following the train of thought back to its origin. I hope I'll find a method to reconcile that soon. Of course that would mean self-discipline, which is not one of my strong points either.  **SIGH!**

Regardless, Jason Mraz, as usual, has posted something on his blog that I feel strongly about - Gratitude. I love expressing gratitude whether it's out loud, in my thoughts, or written; to a person or just the Universe in general. His post inspired a list that wouldn't stop forming in my head even after I clicked the submit button the first time. I posted on his comments FOUR times. Is that bad Netiquette? Even if it's good things you're posting?

I thought the list was worth reposting here, especially since I find it so hard to slow myself down long enough to write anything of substance lately. Here's hoping to this being the start of more regularity (the first thing on HIS list, and I can only imagine all the forms of regularity he's actually implying there :D ) in posts this year. At least it's my favorite subject to kick off 2011 with. :) (Figures it would be a kind of "pirated" subject as well...)

I'm grateful for:

Love
Music
San Diego
Big Blue (the Pacific)
Vitamineral Green
YOU for introducing me to it [meaning Jason]
YOU again for << insert a hundred different things you've said that offered me a new way to look at things or to think about or products to try >>
My teachers
Others who have presented new perspectives to me, always keeping it fresh
LIFE
AIR
FOOD
Beautiful clouds and amazing sunsets
MAGIC
Physics
Science
Science
Science
Brains!
Vegetation in all its glory
Animal friends and Wildlife
Nature in general
OUR PLANET
Trees [ok, just added those last two in]
The wonders of the Cosmos
Indoor plumbing
Beauty
Boys
Good Health (did I say that already?)
Omnipossibility :)
The smell of coffee
Chocolate
Money
Barter
Craigslist
Pure potential
Meaningful play
Cafe Gratitude (FOR SURE!)
Organic cotton
Down comforters
The Stars!!!
New Experiences
Colors
Reiki
Technology
Apple Computers
Communication
Messages in the sand
Google
Words/Language
and all the things I don't support and agree with in the world because they allow me to define that which I DO enjoy/support/believe. :)

Of course by now I've thought of another one as well: the ability to help those with less since I have a bit more at the moment. :)

Take 90 seconds and answer the most powerful question in the world:

What are YOU grateful for?!

GO!

Life Reflections

I'm watching a free video series from Oprah that's available on iTunes. She calls it her Soul Series and one of the people she interviews is Eckhart Tolle. (Another one totally worth listening to is Byron Katie. I'd never heard of her before the Leadershift 2010 conference, but darnit, here is another person that has already put into a book exactly what I've been thinking for years! I've GOT to get on this author thing!) I loved Eckhart's book, A New Earth, and I highly recommend it.

In Part 2 of Oprah's interview with Tolle, she opens the phone lines so callers can ask him questions. The first caller asks him, "How do you embody what you talk about—you being free of the domination of ego? Can you please share your experience of being in the here and now."

He gives some explanation to lay out how he lives in the present moment and clarifies that he also lives with awareness of chronological time. He says the primary focus is always on the present moment. It makes life very simple (I'm paraphrasing) and can also be described as a state of surrender to life. He goes on to say if you live a life full of trouble, a very important question to ask yourself is, "What is my relationship to this moment? Am I making this moment into an enemy? Am I treating this moment as an obstacle that I need to overcome?"

Eckhart says he, personally, has a very friendly relationship with the present moment as he doesn't put the present in a negative light, as if it's something he has to endure or get through (again, paraphrasing) to get on to something happier. I can totally identify with that. I know I USED to be that way, and perhaps sometimes I fall back into it. However, for the most part since I've been in San Diego I've had plenty of challenging moments, but I've also found surrendering to them makes life easier, and friendlier (I like that description :).

Remaining present, and choosing what is happening *now* has kept my monkey mind from focusing too much on the past or future, thereby creating a problem where none exists. Problems can only exist in the future and past. There may be challenges in the present moment, but there are no problems because problems require time to build, and the present moment holds no time as we understand it, especially not enough time to build an entire problem.

So he says if you're living a stressful life, a tool to use for change is to stop and ask yourself several times a day, "'How am I relating to the present moment?' Because when you do that what you're really asking is 'What is my relationship with life?' because the present moment is essentially your life. You can only encounter your life in the present moment. So it's a vital question to ask yourself 'what is your relationship with life?' because if your life is one of hostility, which is when you make the present moment into an obstacle or an enemy, then life always reflects back to you your predominant state of consciousness."

I love how he put this particular thought - that life always reflects back to you your predominant state of consciousness. I wanted to make note of it for myself as well as share it with whoever might be reading here because I feel this is a really great way to get the idea across that YOU are creating your life. Not some guy behind a curtain or an angry old man on a throne in the sky - it's all YOU baby.

What are you reflecting today? Right now?

And what are you reflecting NOW?

How 'bout now?

How 'bout now?

Yeah, I know, I could go on with that forever. If you have trouble remembering to stop and ask yourself this question throughout the day, set a series of alarms on your phone's calendar (or something you refer to frequently to keep track of your day) to bring your focus to the present for at least those few seconds each day. Eventually you will find yourself anticipating the reminder, therefore it is already being brought to the front of your consciousness, and it will become a *good* habit. (The word "habit" has definitely earned an undeserved reputation as something negative.)

The best time to ask that question tho is *every* time you encounter change, which for most humans, is A LOT during a 24 hour period. Change can encompass something as common as a car moving into your lane on the freeway, or as large as news that changes your life. Good or bad, change creates a lot of stress for us meat suits because we are forced to adapt and evolve to fit the new situation, sometimes very quickly. It is a survival instinct to be able to do so. If your automatic reaction to change is resistance, hostility, anger, sadness or anything less than acceptance, imagine the percentage of the day you spend feeling yukky! Are you sure you want to live that way? Wouldn't you rather be happy NOW?


I hadn't really thought about how I reached the state of peace I currently enjoy 90% of the time, but looking back I suppose I just kept asking myself, "What am I feeling in this moment? Do I want to be this or happy?" I kept choosing happy until the answer was "I'm already happy and it don't get better than that!" a good majority of the time. It's a matter of continuing to bring your focus back to RIGHT NOW.

That picture of the outdoor banner over on the right side of this very blog that says,"You are here, but are you present?" That is the wallpaper on the front of my phone. Even when I'm looking at it without really seeing it, I think it taps my subconscious and says, "Pssst. Are you really present to this moment?" Like I said... it's become a habit.

I think since we're all human there will always be some times when we're less than happy, so for those perfectionists out there (me included) I have also come to realize that acceptance also means life will not be perfect 100% of the time. How boring would that be anyway? I would be surprised if even Eckhart said he's in a state of bliss 100% of the time.

I've said many times that I have gratitude for the lows because without them, how would we define and enjoy the highs? So even in sadness or anger or whatever, I realize somewhere deep down it's ok to have that too. The word AND is so much more powerful than that word OR.

Well, my thoughts are starting to fly all over and no doubt it has something to do with it being 5am. Just wanted to put that out there tho because the reflection is beautiful. :)

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.

Winter Stories: Get Your Mug O' Hot Chocolate & Cozy Up

Story #1
I don't know who the architect was of the condo I live in, or if it was even that person that made this decision, but somewhere someone in the early 80s thought it would be a good idea to use radiant heat in my place instead of a conventional furnace. Normally I would be thrilled - who wouldn't love walking on warm floors in bare feet in the colder months? Except this genius decided to put the radiant heat in the CEILING, not the floor, even though the floor is tile and therefore would definitely benefit from some heat. Newsflash in Thermodynamics Einstein: Heat rises.
Needless to say, I do not use the provided heating system in my house. The downstairs unit may take care of upstairs, but upstairs would definitely only be keeping the spiders warm in the attic, and those little bastards don't pay rent.
Last year I purchased a couple space heaters from craigslist.com and they worked out pretty well. Even with three of them cranking they're not too bad on my power bill and they keep the areas I occupy warm enough.
One of the heaters did a great job heating the room, but the thermostat never seemed to work properly so it just kept heating and heating unless you were there to turn it on and off yourself. This was only annoying when I needed to leave the house for long periods; then I would have to choose whether I wanted to return to a freezer, or South America with Spunky (the iguana) sprawled out on his shelf sporting zinc on his nose and a margarita in hand.
This year, being unemployed, I decided I cannot afford to have a faulty thermostat helping SDG&E raid my bank account, so I kept watch for the same type of heater on craigslist. I finally found one for only $25 (I spent $40 on the first one; retail was like $80+ USD) and went to grab it. It looks exactly like the old one with a few extra scuffs. At home tonight I plugged it in and set the thermostat just as the gorgeous surfer dude showed me (amazing I even remembered how, I was so entranced by his steel blue eyes). It heated up past what I had set it at, then the temp number started blinking. I felt above the heater - still very hot. Hmmm. I waited a bit. I felt again. Still felt like heat coming out. I'm thinking darnit, this one doesn't work either! Maybe this is some faulty thing with all of these Honeywell models.
I sat playing with it awhile longer. Eventually I figured out that when the temp blinks, it has turned itself off to cool down, however, it doesn't feel like it because the metal grate above the heating element takes a long time to really cool off. Oh. Ok, my bad. So it IS working properly. Well yay for that.
I watched it do its thing for about 10 minutes, then I got to thinking. I wonder if I made a mistake with the old one and just didn't set it properly? Only one way to find out. I drag the old one upstairs and repeat the test process. Turns out it works perfectly! Now who's the dumbass about heating? ::sigh::
So anyone need an extra space heater? I mean seriously - when it gets down to 63°F, down blankets and wool socks just aren't enough!
~*~
Story #2
Last Saturday I attended a class on Brain State & Consciousness offered by Teri Mahaney at a new age store in Oceanside. It was a great class, but that was the third time I'd forgotten to bring something to write notes in. The Jeep hauls around enough "just in case" items to make any Girl Scout leader fall over with pride (no, I was never one of them), but paper is not among these items unless you count the deposit envelopes in the console, or the Starbucks contraband napkins in the glove compartment.
After the class I was determined to remedy this oversight, so I decided to stop by Barnes & Noble to buy a really cool notebook I'd seen that was on clearance (yes it was $7 - hell no, a $3 spiral bound from the drug store will not satisfy a Mac-toting, Starbucks-drinking, Whole Foods-shopping Snob Like Me).
Have I mentioned how DANGEROUS it is to let me loose in Barnes & Noble?
As I headed to the car consoling my wallet, I noticed Santa Claus sitting in the cafe reading a book. No, seriously, it was him. Round cheeks, big belly, white hair/beard, glasses, Reebok sneakers. If it wasn't him, I'll bet the dude never wears red lest he be accosted by small children everywhere he goes.
I made it to the car to leave, but my silly child-brain was poking me and giggling the entire way about how cool would it be to sit in B&N and read next to Santa Claus? (How old am I?) Even tho I had no intention whatsoever of speaking to him or saying anything about what I was thinking, the idea was just too much to resist. So I went back in with my books and sat down to read there. He even had THE PLATE WITH COOKIE CRUMBS NEXT TO HIM. C'mon! It was HIM!
I tried to sneak a peek at what he was reading but I couldn't see the title without looking like an idiot. I must've read for about an hour, or as long as it took to finish my latte anyhow. He eventually put down his book, took a snooze (I'm serious) for about 10 minutes, then got up and left in his sleigh. Ok, maybe it wasn't a sleigh, but I'll bet he had reindeer stuffed in the trunk. No, really.
I had such a nice time reading the other day tho that I went back tonight after picking up the heater just to be out of the house for awhile. I was looking for Augusten Burroughs' new book, You Better Not Cry. I thought it would be just like his previous publications - a regular size memoir - but it turns out these were just Christmas stories in a smaller, more compact read.
And read I did. In fact, I sat there and read the ENTIRE book in three hours. Straight through with one break for coffee. Which is good because then I didn't spend money buying the book (sorry Augusten!) but it was very funny in his normal morbid kind of way - MUCH better than his last full-length book, A Wolf At The Table. That one just made me cringe the entire way through and I hope never to read something that depressing again. You Better Not Cry was good though. It made me laugh out loud several times, to the point I was trying to suppress it so people didn't stare.
Lovely - there was a point to tell you that story, but I've been interrupted in writing it so many times I forget the point now. So I guess you'll just have to take it for what it's worth.
Ok, I remembered. Sort of. While in B&N, I also decided to pick up two classic children's stories for my Godnephew for Christmas. One was Shel Silverstein's The Giving Tree, and the other was Maurice Sendak's Where The Wild Things Are. I remembered having read these stories maybe once or twice as a kid, but I did not remember what each story was about. I only knew they were classics, and certainly every kid should have the classics in his library, even if he's only 2 years old. I was being a good Godmother, right?
I get home with these books and decide I should read them to refresh my memory. I wish I had done this in the store now. First I open The Giving Tree. In my adult life I've heard over and over what a great spiritual message it sends, or perhaps it was supposed to have a really good moral to the story. I can't really remember, so I dive in.
It's about this tree that loves a little boy. And the little boy asks for things from the tree constantly - all through his growing up years. And the tree always gives him what he wants... all the way to the end when the boy is an old man and just wants a place to sit and the tree can only offer the stump the boy has turned it into as a place to rest.
And then the book ended.
Wait, WHAT?
Where is the awesome moral? The spiritual message? Isn't there at least some GRATITUDE? The tree gives and gives and gives, and the kid takes and takes and takes - even chops it down to build a boat for his own selfish purposes - and never gives ANYTHING back to the tree? Doesn't even plant a new one? What is he, the CEO of a logging company? WTF??!! HE CHOPPED DOWN A TREE and was completely selfish and THIS is a great book that has become a classic? Ok, well it says he loved the tree, but I have a hard time believing asking more and more of something and never giving anything back is a good example of love. Or perhaps that's the exact message. But I don't see how a kid would get that message out of the book. It was hard for ME to salvage that from the story!
To me, this book says he only loved the tree for what it could give him. That is not Love in my world. Love is shared. Love is a two way street. A mutual thing. You take, but you also GIVE. The tree was the only one doing any giving here. I've read Silverstein's other books - A Light In The Attic was one of my favorites as a kid and I had several of his other works. He's probably the only poetry besides Dr. Suess that I've ever enjoyed, but THIS... maybe I'm missing the point, but this is a SUCKY story. Chopping down trees is sacrilege in my book (all puns intended) to begin with. Besides, the picture of Shel on the back cover would give a kid nightmares. What editor picked THAT photo? Dumbass. This book is SOOO going back.
Ok, so that one wasn't what I thought it would be. Surely Sendak's work - which is now a major motion picture - is better. I crack this one open.
Max, the main character, backtalks his mother and gets sent to his room without supper. But instead of being remorseful and thinking about how crappy he treated his elder, or the story supporting respect for your parents, the kid grows a forest in his imagination, travels to "where the wild things are," becomes their king, treats them shitty the same way he felt he was treated, finally gets bored, goes home, and finds that his mother (presumably) has left his dinner in his room for him.
Wait, WHAT?! WHAT??!!
The kid acts like a total brat and gets punished for it, then spreads the negativity to imaginary creatures, and comes home to be REWARDED??! Are you KIDDING me?
Ok, MAYBE forgiveness is the message here? But that would mean it's forgiveness on his parent's part, and what of his being a brat in the first place? Shouldn't the lesson be NOT to be a 'tard to begin with? Forgiveness is such a stretch, and again, how is a CHILD supposed to get that out of this story? My ADULT brain had to really dig around for that one.
What is WRONG with these authors? And HOW - pray tell - have THESE particular books become such "classics?" I can only think that they are popular because people my age who had them as kids saw nothing wrong with how the characters acted because they were a bunch of spoiled brats themselves, and to a worm in horseradish, the world IS horseradish (as quoted recently in a MUCH better book for bigger, more intelligent kids: What The Dog Saw by Malcolm Gladwell - I HEART HIM!!).
And THAT, my friends, is exactly what's wrong with the world today. Nothing but brats born in the 60s turning into bigger, older brats and seeing nothing wrong with their bratty behavior because they have NO respect for their elders. At the risk of sounding just like my grandparents, what is this world coming to?!
Both of these books are going back. No wonder I don't remember them from when I was a kid. Their messages suck. If anyone has a better explanation of what I'm missing that others must be getting from these stories, PLEASE PLEASE enlighten me.
~*~
Story #3
Today was trash day in our neighborhood. I'm always grateful for the G-man on Wednesdays because I never want to take for granted the fact that I don't have to deal with the trash I create beyond getting it out of my house to the curb. What a blessing! I think too many of us don't often think about where it goes after that, or the people it takes to get it there. Or that we should really be making a much bigger effort to send less of it wherever it ends up. But that's another blog...
I personally have it down to less than one kitchen-size bag of trash per week, except for when I clean the chinchilla cages and I have a second bag full of their nasty peed-on cage substrate, which is all biodegradable anyway. The roommate has added a bit more to my weekly refuse, but mostly we are less trashy than most of my neighbors. And I mean that literally when I talk about the asshole with the two always-screaming children and mufflerless Harley under my bedroom window.
When I moved in and realized I had to buy my own rubbish bin, I bought a 42-gallon wheeled thing that I knew I would never fill in a week, but figured bigger is always better for those few occasions when not everything fits, right?
The first time I left it on the curb on trash day I got it back with a terse note that they would not empty anything larger than a 32-gallon can. Oops. Sorry guys. I took the 42-gallon back to Home Depot and got the smaller can. Everyone was happy.
Today though, the garbage man not only took stuff, he left us all a present. Apparently Waste Management got a new contract, or new truck, or something because everyone in my little condo complex received a brand new GIGANTIC plastic city-owned trash bin. This thing is the size of Kansas. Even bigger than the original 42-gallon one they were so upset about. I guess the trucks have stronger back muscles than The Man.
Unfortunately fitting this monster in my garage has been a challenge. It's only a one-car garage and with all my daughter's stuff packed up in boxes in there, there's not much room left for things besides the washer/dryer and the Jeep.
Now that it's 3am and my brain is getting fuzzy, I don't know why this is news, but it did make me laugh earlier trying to fit it in the garage. I swear the Jeep actually glared at it because the only place for it is right in front of its nose. I tried along the side but squeezing the car between that and the other wall was just too much maneuvering. The Condo Association won't let us keep cans outside where anyone can see them - not even on the back patio (not that I would want it there anyway), but seriously, where do they think we have room for these things? Why wasn't I consulted? Oh yeah, maybe if I'd go to the Condo Assoc. meetings I would know. :)
Okay, time for bed. I just discovered I have other blog entries I haven't even finished from awhile back, but there's no way I'm staying awake for that. I'm not even going to proofread this. Ooooo - living dangerously!

California Is So Grateful!

My Jeep has always had personalized license plates. I think they make it feel special and cared for compared to cars with only a standard issue tag, and they give it bragging rights in the parking lots. (Yes, my imagination runneth over.)

In New Jersey my license plate said LEEZARD because that's what I call my trusty vehicle. (There's that whole iguana & gecko thing I have going on too.) I mean the Jeep IS green and if I ever got brave enough to take it off road, I'm sure it would love crawling up on rocks to sun itself. (I'm not scared to go off road, I'm scared to rip the transmission from the axles and be sans transportation!)

I had several possible plate combinations picked out months before I left for California. When the time came to register it, none of them felt right. I ended up going with FZY LOGC because it means a couple things to me: 1) The chinnies needed their turn to be represented on the license plate and fuzzy logic could imply chinnie logic since they're so fuzzy and all; 2) I love physics and even tho fuzzy logic is technically a math concept, it's used in physics; 3) I love irony and I thought it more than a little ironic that I would pick something math-related since I am so allergic to math.

Unfortunately the FZY LOGC plate has not thrilled me. It still doesn't feel right and being in the Home State of Silicon Valley, I've already had a couple enginerds ask me about it as if I actually UNDERSTOOD what fuzzy logic is... then I've had to hang my head and admit that I suck at math. They always look so disappointed.

I started thinking something along the lines of gratitude might be a better fit, especially since I have the Cafe Gratitude sticker on the back to ask anyone checking out my rear, "What are you grateful for?"

I went to the DMV's web site where they conveniently have a program to type in your license plate to see if it's available. These are the things I typed in:

GRATEFL
GREATFL
GR8FUL
GR8FL
GR8FAL
GR8TFAL
GR8TFUL
GR8TEFL
GR8EFUL
GR8FULL
GR8TFIL
GRATI2D
GRATY2D
IMGR8FL
AMGR8FL
GR8TFL1
GR8FL4U
RUGR8FL
THNKFUL
THANKFL

Apparently California is the most grateful state EVAR. Not one of those combinations was available. Of course, we are also the most populated state I think, so if I cared a whit about math, statistics (or perhaps fuzzy logic) would probably have saved me the wasted time and explained why I most likely wouldn't get the plate I want.

To be fair, TH4NKFL and GR4TEFL were available but considering the font Cali uses I'm just not convinced I'd get the message across. Still thinking about it. Maybe I should just go with LEEZARD again. (ACK!!! Except I just checked that and someone has my plate now! Should've grabbed it when it was available. :( )

(Incidentally, URAWSUM and IMAWSUM are both taken. How AWSUM would it be to see both of those at a stoplight together? LOL)

For The Boys

The amazing thing is this: 90% of a woman’s emotional problems stem from feeling unloved. So don’t stand back and analyze her, like a doctor diagnosing a patient, or like a therapist questioning a client. Give her your love - the same love that is motivating your questioning - immediately and unmistakably. Walk over to her, look deeply into her eyes, hold her and stroke her, tell her how much you love her, smile, hum her favorite song and dance with her, and chances are, her emotional problem will evaporate. She may still have some situation to deal with, and you may be able to help her with that, but the emotional aspect will be converted to love.

It is a very rare occasion when your analysis of her mood relieves her of it. Most often, your analysis and attempts to fix her will just piss her off more. Ask her if she would rather you gave her love or analyzed her when she is upset. It’s so easy to give her love; it’s what both of you really want anyway. But as a man you are more likely to try to fix her. That’s exactly not what she wants, and exactly what will make the situation worse, most of the time.

- David Deida, The Way of the Superior Man

THIS IS SO TRUE.

Things I'm thankful for today:

1. Someone in my life who is amazingly good at the very thing quoted above.
2. The washer and dryer in my garage.
3. Awesome photographers.
4. Green.
5. Happiness.
6. Socks right out of the dryer.

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

There Is No Charge for Awesomeness

I was thrilled and grateful tonight to find that one of my very favoritest blogs has reappeared after going walkabout on my "Blogs I Follow" list for the past couple months.

I first encountered the person who writes this blog on RKOP. She always has something positive to say and her outlook on life is amazing. She is easily, absolutely the most awesomest person I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting on this planet.

Check her out:

Care to Kid?

Off her Pages

Be Kind, Unwind

Sometimes I feel like the most magnificent failure ever as a parent. My daughter recently went to McDonald’s (EWWW!) to obtain some bit of chemical swill they pass for food (she refuses to eat healthy no matter what example I set or how much I hound her about the crap she puts in her body and the effect it will have eventually – youth is wasted on the young - can I have my AARP card now?) and when she returned, she told me a Mexican guy came up to her car and persistently begged for money while she was in the drive-thru. Her story was not narrated in a compassionate “I wish I could’ve helped him” tone, this was told in a completely indignant, angry “Why the hell are there so many illegals here and WTF business do they have accosting ME?!” Princess tone. :sigh: Who raised this kid?

I have to admit, I’m not wild about the thought of so many foreigners coming into our country and not playing by the same rules everyone else has to, but still having some benefit from our system. I also don’t agree with how they pop out babies one after the other when they can’t even feed the first one they had (although that happens plenty right here at home too). It’s certainly a drain on our nation.

However, when I expand my awareness beyond the details, these are still PEOPLE – they’re HUMAN. They get hungry and scared and need shelter and love just like the rest of us. Most are just trying to make a better life for themselves and their families. And how awful must it be where they come from that they’re willing to risk that kind of journey, and stoop to begging for food, because it’s better than where they were. Think about that. A lifestyle we avoid at all costs, the one viewed as bottom of the barrel – THAT is a step up from where these people lived.

Is that lazy? Is that contemptible? Is that not a shining example of hope, and the ultimate faith that the Universe will provide for you? Isn't it possible we could learn something from that?

Sure, I know the stereotype, and it becomes a stereotype for a reason. But it’s not everyone. And you have to give some benefit of the doubt at some point. Again, these are still HUMANS. There are always going to be those who fit the worst description our imaginations conjure, and then there are those that are truly trying to make a difference in their lives. How do you know which is which in the ten second interaction that takes place when someone asks you for a handout? You don’t. So give the benefit of the doubt. And even if you can’t offer anything more than a prayer for that person to have a better day tomorrow, BE KIND. That's all I wanted my daughter to be.

So I heard Katy’s story, and in the moment I felt like I failed to pass on any compassion at all to her. I argued with her that these are still people, and on paper we’re not that far removed from the dude at her window when I’m down to $10 cash and don’t get paid for a week. She didn’t seem to care, and stubbornly stuck to her disgust. Ego – Open All Night! AAGGGHHH. Somehow I don’t feel I can write that off as naiveté as easily as the eating habits, and I’m not sure how to correct it now. I feel like I failed to impress upon her that yes, there may be cases where righteous indignation is appropriate (witness 8 years of Emperor Rove... I mean Bush... I mean Cheney), but that still doesn’t make it okay to treat someone less fortunate like dirt. Perhaps if more people felt this way, there would be less crime and poverty and bullshit going on in the world.

You know, in the past few days I’ve been worried I don’t have enough compassion. I’m often opinionated and come across cold or elitist about certain subjects. I’ve told my share of racial jokes (but I like to think I pick on everyone equally, like Carlos Mencia who touts himself as an "Equal Opportunity Offender"), and surely I feel like everyone should be pulling their own weight and/or cleaning up their own messes no matter what walk of life they come from. But under those cold, opinionated, ego-filled comments and diatribes, there is still Love. And sometimes people need a little help. None of us can exist completely alone because we are all intertwined - part of a Whole.

The good thing that came from her tale is my own gratitude. I look around my house and see there is food in the pantry, and electricity in my walls, and a clean bathroom, and an awesome bed to sleep in tonight, a computer connected to the internet, and so many things I don’t even look at every day because I don’t need them, and I’m like geez, even when I’m down to pennies in my bank account with creditors breathing down my neck, I’m a WORLD away from that guy. That guy would give anything to have my problems. And maybe I’m not the one to change his fortune, but I’m thankful he exists, and I'm even thankful he chose my daughter to bother (since it was harmless!), because it makes me grateful to be where I am. I just hope someday Katy sees the Light too.

A Dog's Life

I've been pet sitting for a couple that's on vacation this past week. I have a lot of fun with their two tiny dogs, who are full of energy and personality (contrary to the pic above - my camera is not fast enough to catch them in action). They make me laugh hysterically every night when we play (I mean seriously, could that tail GO any faster?), then they curl up on the couch and melt my heart with their snuggling. I'm grateful for this quality time with my canine friends because it reminds me that life is more than what bills I owe or how much work I have left to do.

The tail waggers are all about the treats and the petting and the constant anticipation that anything I might be fiddling with up on that counter MUST be something for them to eat. I mean what else is a human's purpose in life if not to feed them? They're positive today is the day they're getting that plate. "What? You're taking that to the CAT? For real? DOG has three letters too - maybe you misread the package! Look again - no wait, ok, I'll follow you. Put the plate down tho. Like now. Ok, let me try to jump up and eat it while it's still in your hand. Is this a game? I'm right here! Why are you still walking? Just put the plate down. No, right here - I'm right here! Oh man... that cat gets all the good stuff." ::scratching and whining at the door ensues::

Dogs are just so present all the time. Now is the only moment on their clock. When you walk out of their sight - even if you're just taking out the trash - they think you've left forever. They cry and pout, then give you the most joyous greeting when you return: "Oh thank God you're back! We thought you were a goner. That door is surely a black hole, or worse - the vet! Did you escape the vet? We're SO happy to see you we will cover you in dog kisses anywhere that skin in showing! And thank you for forgetting NOT to wear flip flops again because we're SURE your toes need our spit between them." Where else can you get unconditional love like that?

I don't have TV because I rarely watched it back in NJ, so I figured why bother even hooking it up here. I haven't missed it, but while I'm with the dogs, it's nice to zone out and flip through channels. Besides, it's impossible to read a book with them on the couch because they are aware of the handicap it creates, and the ratio of two tongues against one hand. The daschund has incredibly good aim and likes french kisses. BLECH.

Tonight I landed on an old black and white movie starring Katherine Hepburn: Little Women. I remember reading the book by Louisa May Alcott when I was young. You could never get my nose OUT of a book back then. I don't remember reading too many of the "classics," but this was one of them. I even collected the Madame Alexander dolls of the characters (the only dolls I could ever tolerate) - in fact, I still have them in a box in the garage. I was amazed that as the story line played out on the screen, I could clearly remember the sets and characters my imagination created back then. How cool is the brain to retain all that for so long? Ok, not THAT long (Jimmy!).

The movie also made me think about that fairy tale I'm trying to manifest. Maybe I'm just old fashioned but whether it was Hollywood or the era itself, it seems to me that men were more gentlemanly back then. That's what I'm looking for. Chivalrous, respectful, and somewhat innocent in their romantic pursuits (or at least they were able to keep things in check during an entire courtship) and they were good sports if they were refused. Ladies were graceful and elegant, with good manners, good posture (of course, who DOESN'T have good posture in a corset?!), and proper speech. Even though the acting was comically bad, the blocking made you wonder if this was the director's first time out, and there were no special effects, there is a certain charm to those old movies that I think more people desire in their daily lives than will admit. Maybe they don't realize that civility is the ingredient that's missing.

What kind of jaded society have we become that we are too lazy to enunciate, too impatient to walk slowly into a new relationship, and too presumptuous to properly introduce one another and take the time to learn who we are? I contend that these are simply bad habits we've fallen into, and we are lazy as well so we don't change them. Most people know how they should act, they just don't bother.

I know not ALL people are like that, but generally in Generations X and Y the tendency towards these traits, along with a sense of community, is deteriorating. I feel like some old biddie when I worry what the following generations will be like, and how this effects our happiness as a Whole. Just lock me up in a retirement home now. Perhaps we can't live in an ideal world because everyone's idea of perfect is different (or maybe we DO live in an ideal world since the Universe works without fault), but I still feel there are some things that everyone would agree could improve.

After I came home I sat on the balcony in the papasan chair awhile, conversing with the moon. It's beautiful and full tonight, glowing so bright it cleared the sky of stars except for the outer reaches of the horizon. In my head I listed out all the good things in my life, and imagined dancing with the man of my dreams. Silly? Maybe. It's true though. He would have the grace of Fred Astaire, the charm of Charlie Chaplin, a dash of the rogue Humphrey Bogart's characters embodied, and the humor of Dane Cook because c'mon - I don't live in that era afterall!

I'm too tired now to really know where I'm going with this so I guess I'll end it here. The things I told the moon I am thankful for were:

• The balls to move to San Diego
• New friends
• Always having enough
• The ocean only 15 miles away
• New beginnings

Mahalo

Thanksgiving Eve. It is the calm before the storm. The deep breath before diving in. The moment you pause on your board and look down the snow-covered hill before hurling yourself over the edge into a barely-controlled slide down a slippery slope. [Not that I would have any idea about that since I've never been snowboarding, but I can imagine. I'd be the one curled up by the fire in the lodge with something hot and sweet, and maybe hot chocolate too. Ha.] After tomorrow, much of America will begin the insane pace of The Holiday Season.

I'm so glad we have a celebration focused on gratitude before all that nuttiness starts. The retailers try their best to gloss over Thanksgiving in favor of the consumer madness that Christmas has become, but at least we stop to breathe first, and devote a day to being thankful for what we've given and gained in the last year.

Personally, I like to count my blessings every day. Even if I don't write them down in my book, I at least think of five things every night that I'm thankful for before I go to sleep. Imagine how the world would change if every single human being did that every night. I wouldn't mind living in a world like that.

Thinking about Thanksgiving also reminds me of the turkey in the road. This past summer, there was a wild turkey in Wyckoff that chose the middle of an intersection as his strut zone. Every day on my way to work traffic would be backed up because Mr. Turkey was casually strolling from car to car, sometimes even knocking on the doors. Each time I passed him, I sent him protective Reiki thoughts, wished him a good day, and hoped everyone would stay aware enough not to hit him. He survived. Eventually, strutting season was over and I'd like to think he went back into the nearby nature preserve. (Or it's possible animal control finally took him somewhere safer, but I hope he decided to leave on his own when his work was done.) I looked up turkeys in the Sams cards and Animal Speak and learned that turkey medicine is all about adaptability, blessings, and sacrificing yourself for the good of the whole. I'm not sure if this idea came before or after our tradition of Thanksgiving was established, but either way I'm glad Turkey got the honor of this special message.

Kaytee just told me a cool story before she went to bed. Some background first: I recycle everything I can, and I've always been one to save the little cardboard sleeves from Starbucks for future use (if I don't have my travel mug with me). I actually have two from last Christmas I carry around in my purse. Every time I use them, it's one less wasted piece of cardboard in a landfill. It may not seem like a huge recycling gesture, but the numbers do add up after awhile. With as much Starbucks as I drink, I'd be willing to bet I've saved a few hundred of those things from polluting our planet by now.

Apparently I've influenced my daughter to do the same thing. She told me she was working tonight at Vans and had gotten Starbucks. Previously, someone at Macy's had given her a piece of paper scented with perfume and it was in her purse with the cardboard sleeve, which then picked up the perfume. When she used the sleeve on her cup, the heat released the scent and a girl she works with commented on it. Kaytee explained why it was probably the sleeve from her cup the girl was smelling. Her co-worker then asked if she was an environmentalist. Kaytee said she was definitely concerned about the Earth and tried to do what she could to help out. The girl thought that was pretty cool and decided she was going to start saving the Starbucks sleeves to use more than once too. Not only am I glad to know Kaytee thinks about those things, I'm glad to know my recycling habits are spreading!

Tonight I am thankful for the pure potential energy of gratitude. I am also thankful that my daughter picks up some of my good habits instead of just the bad ones. I'm grateful for the beauty and warmth of a crackling fire, and the mobility of my laptop so I can sit by it and write this post. Thank you for great books that make me laugh and keep me entertained. Thank you for my baking skills, and an annual occasion for family and friends to gather and enjoy each other's company. Thank you for love, happiness, and whirled peas. ;)