To Do or Not to Do?

 

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I’m not a Catholic girl, but recently I’ve noticed a tendency to want to start new blogs with, “Forgive me Father, it has been 13 days since my last blog.”  I’m not quite sure what I need to be forgiven for, but I have concluded that clearly, it must have something to do with myself.  Whatever.  Maybe the answer to that will become clear as this blog—or this day—or this lifetime moves on.  We’ll see.  Or not.

I’ve done a lot of blog stop-starts in the past few days but they are just that.  Starts and stops.  Life is like that sometimes—a series of starting stuff that I don’t finish.  Maybe that’swhat I need to forgive myself for, especially those days when I just can’t seem to get out of my own way.  Heaven help me—I’m in a blog fog!

A few days ago when lethargy was the order of the day, I blamed it on post Royal Wedding Blues. All of that glorious anticipation and activity leading up to The Great Moment when Harry and Meghan finally tied the knot and we all had our curious little questions answered.  Will Harry wear a uniform and keep his beard? Will he wear a wedding ring? Who will walk Meghan down the aisle?  What will her dress be like and who was the designer?  You know—all of those intriguing questions that tickled the world’s fancy for weeks on end.

Well it was either that, or a week of grey gloomy weather that added to the post wedding blues that got me, or maybe a combination platter.  Whatever it was, voila!  Instant depression.  How depressing!

Okay so today is a whole new day and I’m over it.  I’ve allowed myself the luxury of a full do-nothing, guilt-free, three-day wallow and now it’s time to move on.  There is something really therapeutic about giving oneself the gift of a good wallow, provided it is not allowed to go on for too long lest it become self-defeating hence unhealthy.  Three days max.

Now here I am, fresh as a daisy, bright as a star with a whole day (albeit another gloomy one) in front of me with nothing on my calendar and nothing pressing to do.  So many options, so many choices!  In her recent blog, Natalietalksabout.com inspired me to declutter a jewelry drawer.  I could do that, I suppose.  Or write a blog about decluttering (and with any luck it might even make it to the finish line).  Or I could stop procrastinating and plant some flowers and herbs in the pots on my balcony.  Well maybe—I never like to rush into anything.  Whoa–were those the Blue Angels that just streaked overhead past my balcony?  If I had been out there tending to pots, perhaps I wouldn’t have missed seeing them.  Oh well–maybe later–

Meanwhile, lest I fritter away the entire day in indecision mode, best I pick one and just DO it.  So here I am DOING it, and as it turns out, the IT is a blog.  Well, whatdya know—I think maybe it might even be finished.  Today there is hope about making it as far as the jewelry drawer.  I’m not too sure about those empty pots however but God willing, tomorrow is another day.

Hot dog.  Today there is nothing to feel guilty about or forgive myself for.  Not today, not any day, no matter how naughty I think that I may have been. God bless God for giving us do-over’s—the chance to fix what isn’t really broken in the first place.  I’ll drink to that.  Except that I don’t drink anymore.  Drat.  Maybe I’ll just celebrate with a push of the post button and dance a little happy dance instead.

Ye haw.  Thank you God!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What is the Meaning of This?

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In keeping with my usual “get-up-early-so-I-can-loaf-longer” mode, it is o’dark-thirty and I have been up for over an hour and a half.  So far, I have picked up my pen instead of my computer (a major start-of-the-day accomplishment), meditated, walked and fed the dog, and just settled down to enjoy my second cup of coffee.  Somewhere between the twenty steps that separate the kitchen from my Lazygirl, a small kamikaze fly took a suicide dive into my coveted second cup. Bummer.

My normal modus operandi would be to immediately ask myself,  “What is the meaning of this?”   Today I have admitted to myself that perhaps there is no meaning in this.  But hey—it wouldn’t be like me not to wonder just a little bit—and to use the incident as a springboard to the discovery some sort of magical, mystical, amazing hidden Truth that suddenly reveals itself as a reward for my continual forward march on the obstacle-strewn path to Nirvana. What is my life after all, if nothing but a search for meaning?

The fly-in-the-coffee routine is reminiscent of the wasp-in-the-purse number that occurred a number of years ago.  It makes me wonder—why bother to search for meaning when I have already found it long ago (and apparently forgotten it again)?  That would be a little like reinventing the wheel.  On the other hand, what with my forgetful ways, I always do appreciate a good reminder because Heaven knows, I can use all of them I can get!

Just so you know—the little story that you are about to read was lifted right out of my book, Amusings—Looking at Life Through a Stained Glass Window.  Is it blog- cheating to plagiarize myself?  I don’t know, but I’m going to do it anyway, so here goes.  The following little vignette is titled The Wasp.

Have you ever popped into your car, reached your hand into your purse to find your keys and discovered that there was a wasp wandering around somewhere between your checkbook and wallet?  It is probably a moment you would prefer reading about when it happened to someone else than actually experiencing for yourself.

Well, we had quite a time, the wasp and I.  We had a little conversation—seems I did most of the talking—while the nosy little itinerant inspected the contents of my handbag.  Hitching a ride to somewhere, and looking for a bite of free lunch, I supposed.  I wasn’t much looking forward to being his mid-day meal.

Apparently, I managed to talk some sense into the tiny critter’s head, because before too very long, s/he flew out the open car window, rather than risk being bludgeoned to death by the contents of a closed purse being pounded in panic against a hot asphalt parking lot.  Thank goodness.

Once my heart rate returned to normal, I immediately launched into my usual what-does-this-mean mode, and concluded that the wasp had given me a very great gift.  I drove away thanking the clever powers that be for the experience, because now—ta dah—I had a juicy little tidbit of insight for the subject of my next writing session.

There was a time when I thought that daily bread was a tangible, like money, or food. (Naturally, I’d be thinking in terms of food).  But that day, thanks to my friend the wasp, I came to an entirely new understanding about the meaning of daily bread.  Daily bread became transformed in my mind from the tangibles of food and money into food for thought.  I moved from the tangible to intangible, then back to tangible again, by bringing ideas, creativity, wisdom and inspiration into physical manifestation through words as a personal expression of individual creativity.

Some folks can take their ideas and build buildings, or paint masterpieces, or write great American novels, or take embryonic ideas and turn them into enormous business empires. Well I had an unfortunate relationship with geometry, never got past kindergarten art, and my grandiose, highfalutin entrepreneurial ideas have long since gone up in smoke, along with the dream of making it onto Oprah’s book list.

But I’m not dead yet! Thanks to that unexpected, uninvited visitor in my purse, I was given an idea and a story to tell, along with a healthy dose of insight, inspiration, and willingness to use it creatively. So the idea is to write the idea. And who knows?  Maybe one day the idea will be published somewhere and I’ll even get paid fir it.  Now wouldn’t that be something!

Either way, published or not, when I fail to write for myself as a personal expression of my own inner creativity, I’m starving myself to death.

Oh Lord, give me this day my daily bread.  I’m too young to die.

 

 

 

 

The Surprise Sucker Punch

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Do you ever review your day just before going to sleep?  I do—and last night I had to face the music and ask myself, “Egad—what in the world was that?”

Yesterday was one of those head-pounding, heart-pumping, vein-popping nightmarish kind of days that nearly sent me over the edge of sanity into the brutal realization that I ain’t perfect yet.  Dagnabit.  When am I going to learn?

Here I thought that I finally had it all together (well, maybe just some of it) only to be shocked into the awareness that just like anyone else, I am not immune from the blast of anger that lurks just beneath the surface of my usual calm manner that is ready to flare up unexpectedly to pounce and punch—and Heaven help the person who happens to be innocently standing in the way when it does!

Unlike the nightmares of The Pink Panther (2/26) and Trashy Dreams (4/22), this was a daytime nightmare from which I have not yet awakened nor barely recovered.  Lessons, lessons, everywhere lessons.

In addition to owning the title of Queen of the Trash Room, I also seem to have acquired the honor of being dubbed Queen of the Movers, or chief-in-charge of the many comings and goings of the condo building where I live.  This one tops the list of the Make-Me-Crazy jobs on my list of Crazy-Things-To-Do.

Yesterday’s move was the pinnacle of the move-from-hell experiences.   The guys on the truck broke every condo rule in the book, resulting in multiple complaints from irate residents who had every right to be angry about the inconvenience created by the truck blocking the entrance/exit to the garage. They refused to move.  Period.  They simply refused to move.   Needless to say, I lost it and things went downhill from there.

My normal behavior would have been to slip into facilitator/mediator role, but I was so blinded by my own anger that I got caught up in the melee, unable to find my way clear.  Fortunately, I soon realized that I was part of the problem rather than part of the solution, and I backed off and apologized for my untowardly behavior toward the movers, but not before I gave myself a good tongue lashing for my behavior.  I felt ashamed of myself and embarrassed by my loss of control.  That sucker-punch caught me by surprise and rather than responding with kindness, I reacted to this little head-on collision with anger instead.

It’s times like these that I need to remember that I’m not broken and I don’t need to be “fixed,” but sometimes when in the midst of such a daytime nightmare, it sounds easier said than done.  Happily for me, I have a strong faith and belief in the power of love over fear, and that I need only remember that love is the best soft-serve antidote to all things conflicting.

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As my head hit the pillow last night, I felt my body struggling to recover from the nasty blast of stress that occurred as a result of the day’s fray.  Heart and head both pounded from physical, mental, and emotional strain and kept me awake and asking myself how I had gone so far over the edge so quickly.  What was the trigger that set me off?  I don’t have the answer to that yet, but at least my head is a little clearer in the light of day.  What did I learn from this unfortunate encounter?

  • It’s easier to catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.
  • Think before I speak.
  • I am not broken and I don’t need to be fixed.
  • Though I may lose it in the moment and never have an opportunity to heal a rift between myself and another, I can still practice the art of love, forgiveness, kindness, and compassion with both myself and those whom I may have harmed.
  • I can reaffirm my resolve to sit down each day with the friendly voices within myself for a refreshing dip in the fountain of awareness and enlightenment.
  • But here’s the kicker of what I really learned.  I learned how important it is to have a strong spiritual belief system.  I learned that yesterday, I had failed to have a little daily chat with my sane, loving unseen voices.  I saw how quickly a situation of minor proportions can quickly morph into a major incident such that those involved might be brought to use violence as a means as a so-called solution to the problem.  Or that a family disagreement can cause a major lifelong fracture that goes unhealed.
  • This incident also reminded me that any situation may be used by the powers that be to heal, bless, and heighten the awareness of those with eyes to see and the willingness to engage in the practice of doing whatever they need to do to add peace to their world and to the world in general.
  • Any experience—no matter how comfortable or uncomfortable, no matter how happy or unhappy—can be used as fodder for a blog.  So thanks for this experience of something to write about, my friends (I think!).

By the way—in case you may have forgotten, I’d just like to remind you (and myself) that we are absolutely perfect exactly the way we are.  Let’s face it—we’re all doing the best we can.  If we could do it any better, we would.  And one day when we’re ready, we will.  Meanwhile, I highly recommend that you simply sit back, relax and enjoy the journey.

Today I’ll thank the voices who are always there for me, I’ll remember that I’m not broken, that I don’t need to be fixed, that I can own and love my behavior and see it as a gift cleverly designed to move me along on my path to enlightenment like it or not (and sometimes I don’t, depending of the form the lesson).   I can see it as a growing experience rather than use it as a weapon against myself, and know that I am always loved and forgiven and I can always love and forgive myself and all others in my world.  And yes, even my enemies.  Well—not so easy sometimes, but I’m working on it!

I also learned that my blissful, joyful, state of euphoria can be quickly destroyed by unhealed anger.  So I’m making the choice for love and will keep my sights set on Nirvana.  It may take awhile, but I plan to stay on track till I make it!  Maybe I’ll see you there, huh?

Oh—as a final note (there always seems to be a final note, right?) I want to add that starting right now, today, this very minute, I have returned to “Thank You God” mode. All day every day, Thank You God Mode keeps me in a state of joyful bliss and out of trouble. Apparently I flunked Gratitude 101 yesterday.  I won’t make that mistake again today.  It’s too stressful!

Thank you,  thank you, thank you God for ALL blessings, both great and small.  And speaking of gratitude . . .

Oh–and here’s other final note.  (Do they never end?)  This blog was produced before I even had a chance to say thank you to all of you wonderful family, friends, and fellow bloggers for your lovely and positive comments about the last post, but hang tight.  I’ll get there soon!  Meanwhile, please know that I appreciate your kind thoughts!  🙂  To those who are following my blog, THANK YOU!

 

 

 

 

Speaking for MySelf

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I’m kinda new at this blogging thing—I’ve only been at it for about three months now, and being the baby blogger that I am, I am still struggling to find my voice.  I tend to write whenever the spirit hits me with an idea, which could be anything and everything, once a day or once a month—and when I sit down to write, I’m never sure what’s coming or where it’s going.

People ask, “What is your blog about?”  Well, I wish I knew, but I really can’t say for sure.  Sometimes it’s serious, sometimes silly nonsense, sometimes spiritual, sometimes a tad irreverent.  What can I say?  Would that I had all the answers.  It’s a little like a day in my life when I plan to go about it with intention but somewhere along the line I’ve wandered off course and wind up at a destination I didn’t have in mind when I first started out.

My erratic writing habits give those who know and love me a chance to stick by my side and love me in spite of myself.  As for the rest of you, well that’s entirely up to you, but I’d be really happy if you’d hang in there with me on my journey to wherever and allow yourself to be as surprised by the ending as I often am.

Take today, for example.  I sit down with my journal and take pen in hand.  An unexpected conversation shows up on the page.

“I am always here to talk with you.”

The vague recollection of a conversation seeps into my awareness and I wonder—did I imagine that?  Dream it?  Read it?

“You are never alone.”

Hmm.  No wonder that my blog is called Voices in my Head.

Who is speaking, I ask?

“It is the Lord,” says the voice.

The Lord?  Do you mean God?  That Lord, I ask?

“I am the Lord of your Being, the voice that speaks to and for your soul.  I am the voice of your higher self.  I, along with others form a group comprised of those who are your guides, angels, teachers, protectors, and guardians.  Together we are a team assigned the task of keeping your best interests in mind and heart, and we function as a group under the leadership of the One who is in charge of your spiritual journey.

‘We speak on behalf of The Great Lord, the team of Jesus the Christ, the Holy Spirit, All That Is.  Our job is to help guide you back to your true home.  On behalf of the Great One, we teach love, forgiveness, kindness, and compassion.

‘We invite you to allow your voice to be the voice for all that is good, of all that is truly helpful. We challenge you to gather the courage to use your voice on behalf of The Great One with the wild abandon of the eagle that flies with wind beneath its wings, soaring for the sheer joy and the freedom that it brings.

‘We urge you to simply allow the spirit of this message to live in your heart, and not become caught up in the mechanics of terminology which the ego would use against you to derail your journey.  Simply allow what is to just be, and relax and enjoy your journey.  We are with you each step along the way.”

End of conversation—at least for today.

Okay, so do you see what I mean?  I don’t know what’s coming next folks, but whatever it is, I think I’ll sit back, relax, and watch to see what unfolds along the way.  Meanwhile, I’m just going to spend some quality time hanging out with my teammates with gratitude and appreciation for the miracles that they perform on my behalf, and for the blessings that they endlessly shower upon me.

I enjoy my little chats with my team.  I hope that you enjoy mine with you.  If you do, please push the “follow” button on my blog site and you’ll receive emails notifying you when I post a new blog.  To quote the over-quoted legendary Forest Gump, “Life is like a box of chocolates.  You never know what you’re gonna get.”  I hope that you’ll be willing to dig in and enjoy the whole box—even if it means that you must take the risk of getting the jelly one that you’d rather spit out than swallow.

One of the things that I love about blogging is that I can make mistakes and don’t have to follow the rules.  There’s nobody to correct me or tell me that I’m doing something wrong.  Love that!  It’s a place where I can be myself, and don’t have to worry about being perfect, but instead can do my best to do the best I can, and maybe as time goes my best will keep on getting better. Meanwhile, you, dear reader, if you wish to do so, have the opportunity to practice forgiveness and love me anyway (and my incorrect grammar and punctuation) in spite of myself.  Isn’t that great?  Isn’t God great?

Before I close, I’d like to share a little PS news flash that just happened before I could put the final “amen” to this little epistle.

I was as happy as a little lark just finishing my blog when I hear the ominous sound of wretching coming from the direction of the dog.  Uh oh—I know what that means!  Charlie has moved himself from his bed on the hardwood floor to the carpet (why do they always do that?) while I start saying NO NO NO in my insistent STOP THAT voice.  I jump out of my Lazygirl to get to him in time to redirect the action away from the carpet back to the hardwood but as I try to stand up, the calf of my leg is gripped by a Charlie horse and I am temporarily and painfully disabled.  Meanwhile, Charlie continues to wretch while I continue to curse at my inability to reach him in time to avoid the inevitable.  Curses indeed!  My leg returns to functional just in time to clean up the mess.  Gee thanks for the dreaded chocolate covered jelly, Charlie dog.  Were you and Charlie horse in cahoots?

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Oh—did I mention?  Those voices in my head sometimes have a wicked sense of humor.  Haha.  Very funny, you guys.  Thanks for the opportunity to remember that it’s not what happens to me that matters—it’s the how do I handle it that counts.  Oh yeah, and thanks for the humorous little antidote to end my story as a diversion from the serious back into the silly.  I know that you dog lovers out there can relate!

That’s it for now, folks.  I’ll see you next time (I hope)!  I wish you blessings, miracles, and grace today and every day.