July 2020 – Voices in My Head

Plugging Up the Leaks

I’ve been trying to work my way up to a nap, but leaks keeps getting in my way. Plug up one, and another spouts forth to replace it. There’s a leak in my washing machine, one in my ceiling, others in the ceilings of beaucoup residents in the building sending plumbers like mice with their sharp little teeth scurrying up and down between floors chewing gaping holes in the walls in search of the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. I am living in a very holy place these days. A day without the report of a leak is a good day. Unfortunately, today is not one of them. No nap for me.

As I ponder the “Why me, God?” question when confronted with a call at an odd hour from a frantic resident screaming “WATER”, I am reminded of a phrase well known to those on a spiritual quest, “Be careful what you ask for.” It dawns on me that just this morning I upgraded my intention to adopt a stance of harmlessness, selflessness, and right speech. Oh boy. Be careful what you ask for. Apparently, the Powers that Be listen very closely and are Johnny-on-the-spot to respond.

With one finger stuck in the dike and an ear glued to the plumber’s hotline, it occurs to me that maybe our current leak-a-thon is providing me with just the perfect opportunity to grab myself by a new attitude and start to practice the art of paying closer attention to what goes on in my head. It would probably sound a wee bit irreverent to say, “Gee, thanks Universe”, but the truth is, I asked for it. Ask and ye shall receive.

Every now and then, I fantasize about what it would be like to hang out inside the head of a person who is spiritually enlightened. The Dalai Lama for example, or Jesus or maybe Mother Teresa. How and what do they think? Do they spend 24/7 praying and meditating? Do they have a sense of humor? Do they wonder what’s for dinner? Do they roll around in Heaven all day forgiving everyone whether they need it or not? Do those who still walk among us in the world think in the same way as those who have departed?

Such imaginings expand my mind and send me on a merry chase in search of role models who give me hints about what might lie ahead. They show me a picture of I want to be like when I grow up, and provide the incentive to for me to run like the wind in hot pursuit of my goal, like the adorable little pink pigs at the California state fair running for the reward of cookies and cream at the end of the race.

I know there’s a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, or maybe some cookies and cream. I know I’ll get there eventually, but in the meantime, I’ll just keep on plugging up leaks and practice the fine art of harmlessness, selflessness, and right speech. I’m not sure what all of that means, exactly, but somehow, I’m quite sure that I will soon find out. That ought to keep me busy for a while.

Note: The photo above is courtesy of New Waves of Light, a website designed by anonymous individuals around the world who share the intention of bringing light and love to a world of darkness and chaos. (newwavesoflight.org or NWOL.us).

What Hides Beneath the Mask?

I have new neighbors across the hall and the way things are going these days, I may not know what they look like for another year. When you’re my age, the good news about masks is that they hide the bottom half of a sagging, wrinkled face. The bad news is that my glasses steam up, I can’t see, I can’t read lips, and I can’t hear because everybody mumbles. Basically I am rendered deaf, dumb, and blind—but at least I am in the good company of much of the grey-haired, glass-wearing population where I live, and we’re all learning to understand mumblese together. My heartfelt sympathy goes to the younger generation trying to fumble their way through the dating game.

My sympathy also to those of us in my condo building who are personally confronted with an epidemic of pin hole leaks and an assortment of miscellaneous plumbing issues rivaling the proportions of the pandemic. Just as we think (and hope and pray) that it’s under control, another pipe pipes up and bursts forth with a vengeance later. Like health caregivers, plumbers are mightily overwhelmed trying to stay ahead of the floods. They think it might be due to the numbers of people staying home and flushing more. I guess there are stranger things . . . who can say?

Meanwhile, the deaf, dumb, and blind among us continue to run around in a frantic effort to plug up wayward leaks lest we drown before we have a chance to rip our masks off and take a great gulp of fresh air.

It all makes me wonder—is the mask that I wear covering up the best part of myself? Am I hiding behind the safety of what is old, familiar, safe? Is there something that I’m not facing, or something that I do not wish to see? Am I afraid that if I remove the protective mask that shelters my so-called safety that I’ll spring a leak and drown in my own fear? Am I afraid that if I remove the mask I will be judged unfavorably, or that I will expose my vulnerability to others, and be perceived as weak?

So what would happen if I suddenly ripped off the mask, exposed the sags and wrinkles, and came face to face with whatever hides behind the face covering? Well, I might be horrified. Or on the other hand, I might be pleasantly surprised to find a lovely person that I’ve never met, a beautiful soul with a light that shines as bright as the sun, someone that I’d really like to get to know, someone I’d like to hang with for the rest of my days.

It requires courage to allow dark shadows to come to light in order to be healed— to rip off the mask like a band-aid, or peel it away bit by bit like layers of an onion to peek at what lies beneath. But it is safe to trust in the wisdom, care, and guidance of Wise Ones who have our best interests at heart as we do what we must in order to discover the truth, beauty, and goodness that lives within. There’s light behind the mask. Let it shine!

The Magic of Creation

In response to a recent blog, The Soul of Service, in which I again questioned my writing commitment, a friend reminded me that when one is prompted by the soul to write, whether it is daily or every other day, it is inner knowing that counts, rather than a slavish following of a personality idea of what one should be doing. I knew that, but I forgot again.

It is a blessed thing to have wise friends who have the ability to help put things into proper perspective. I have all of the answers that I need within myself, but sometimes I forget to look for them or lose track of them, like car keys in the shuffle of everyday life.

There’s a whole lot of stuff that I know nothing about, but this much I do know—I know what I know. I know what’s important, what’s good for me, and what isn’t. I know what makes me happy and what doesn’t. I know that inner knowing is the key to happiness because it sifts the should’s and gotta do’s out of the mind and replaces guilt with loving kindness toward the self. I know the meaning of the expression, “If mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.” We’re all mama’s. We all deserve to be happy. We all deserve to be the very best expressions of ourselves that we can possibly be.

Some people are fortunate to enter into the world with an inherent sense of happiness that comes naturally. Others have to engage in a struggle to overcome unfortunate circumstances, or to flail through layers of cloud cover before discovering that the treasures of happiness and creativity dwell within the confines of our own souls.

Sometimes creativity gets stuck somewhere within, like that last stubborn squeeze of toothpaste that refuses to exit the tube. It gets stranded somewhere within the ego that stands strong and wants to show the soul who’s the boss. Creativity on demand, forced creativity doesn’t usually work out well. Free flowing creativity of the soul marches to its own drummer and spills out in spite of itself in ideas that flow onto paper, and brushes that take on a life of their own and splash color on a canvas as the creator marvels in wonder as miraculous results appear. Creativity in action is truly inspired, a joy to behold and experience.

The expression of creativity brings a joy that nothing else can, a sense of achievement that outlasts and outmatches anything that the material realm has to offer. It’s why writers write, artists paint, and builders build. Creativity needs to be nurtured, coddled, loved into existence by a patient soul willing to let go and watch as it unfolds, willing to allow the will-to-do take the reins and be in charge. It requires inner knowing, inner listening, and faith in the process in order to become manifest.

Divine connection with the Self is the source of creativity that brings forth the sense of happiness that feeds the soul with joy. Sometimes creativity gushes forth in great bursts of energy; sometimes it is a mere drip, drip, drip that slowly reaches the brim of its container, then finally spills over its edges and becomes a gentle flood that cannot be denied. Whatever its size, shape, form, or timetable, it is a gift from Divine source, the Divine connection that lives within. It cannot be rushed or coerced or squeezed into existence; it is best if just simply allowed.

Going Home to the Heart

Today appears to be shaping up to be a headless-chicken kind of a day—the kind of hair-on-fire freak-out day that has me running around in a frenzy screaming for help. So much to do, so little time, so much to think about, where to begin?

My mind yanks me around by the burning hair and demands decisions—not my strong suit under the best of conditions—at least not on demand. I need time to think about things. I’ve noticed that if I think long enough, sometimes the problem disappears itself. I’m not sure if this is a result of procrastination, or if it wasn’t worth thinking about in the first place. Whatever. Today is just one of those days, and I wish it would go away.

It’s not an actual, serious crisis sort of day except to the extent that I have made it so in my head. A seed planted in my mind has suddenly grown out of control and threatens to strangle the life out of me. Jack and the Beanstalk are out to get me.

It makes me wonder about the world that lives in my head, an entire universe of my own making that cohabits with others on the planet just like me–family, friends, co-workers, acquaintances, strangers—who live within the world of their own personal creation. Each one of us a universe unto ourselves, each the same, each so very different.

We decide what to think and believe, and we form opinions based upon those decisions, sometimes based on fact, sometimes on fantasy. We live our lives according to the choices we have made unless, or until something convinces us to change our minds. Free will is a wonderous thing until it clashes with the free will of others. Let the games begin.

Sometimes when I get a little tangled in the overgrowth of my mind, it gets confusing and my knee-jerk reaction is to get out of Dodge and head for the hills. Or go home to sit, suck my thumb, and stare into space for a spell until it dawns on me that there is a better way to deal with my creative mind imaginings than to invite chaos to reign. It’s called meditation. Ahh. Blessed relief.

Obviously, I cannot control what goes on in the universe created in the head of another, but I certainly have the power to choose the thoughts that I allow to roam around in my own head. I can stop long enough to evaluate the contents of my mind and decide if living life in hair-on-fire mode is to my liking, or if I am willing to allow overgrown beanstalks to take over my world.

In my personally designed universe, the pathway that leads from chaotic insanity to the oasis of the calming, peaceful presence of the Soul is my willingness to be willing to seek another way, a better way of living within the world of my mind.

There are Great Teachers, unseen Wise Ones who have traveled the path long before us, ever ready to guide and assist as we travel the rocky road that will lead us safely to the place where they dwell in peace. Though we may encounter countless universes along the way, we will discover that in the end, we are one world, one mind, one heart. May my universe join with all others in the love of the One.

Pardon My French

Somewhere between getting my bones out of bed today, slogging into the kitchen for coffee, and making my way to the Lazygirl for my morning visit with myself, I had an epiphany. Since the confines of the pandemic, my life has morphed from an outer one to inner, and my days begin and end in the Lazygirl. The in-between is anybody’s guess, but the one thing I know for sure is that the beginnings and the endings are my favorite times of day.

I really covet the safety of my morning and evening sits, but sometimes the in-betweens can present some really tricky situations, some related to my membership on the board of directors of the condo where I live. Many folks ensconced in the world of spiritual growth call such challenges AFGO’s. Another Effing Growth Opportunity. Oh great! Another AFGO! Pardon my French. (Why do we always blame the French for the use of vulgarity?)

We’re all faced with AFGO’s from time to time, some simple, some whipdoozies. The question becomes, what do we do when one comes our way? How do we deal with them? If you’ve been following along, you know that one of my favorite techniques for handling tricky challenges is the trusty head-in-the-sand trick. You also know that there’s a pony hiding somewhere amidst the manure. Somewhere between the ostrich and pony, there is buried treasure.

In my experience as a board member, we are often presented with conflicts that wander around amidst the wants of the people, the needs of the property, and the vagaries of personalities. It gives new meaning to “You can’t please all of the people all of the time.” It’s a conundrum of the highest order.

My experience is that whatever the size, shape, or form, an AFGO presents an unparalleled opportunity for personal growth if one has the courage and willingness to extract the head from the sand and dig through the manure long enough to find it. The reward of the search is healing, renewed vision, restoration of sanity, and an opportunity to choose love over fear. If we find common ground and agree that we’re all in it together, then in the end rough edges are smoothed out and peace is restored to mind, heart, and home. Well, one can only hope, right?

As I sit all nestled in the safety of my inner sanctuary and comfort of the lone Lazygirl, I know that every AFGO strewn across my path, both past, present, and undoubtedly future, has provided a life lesson that has pushed me one step closer to the achievement of my life’s purpose. Is it easy? No. Is it worth it? Yes. Is it fun? Not always, but once in a while it’s downright hilarious. It helps to know that the Universe is equipped with a wonderful sense of humor that brings comic relief when the going gets tough. And by the way, if you decide to stick your toe in the water and pan for the gold, you should know that you will never walk alone. The hand of one who has gone before will reach out to help you along the way, while another will reach out to welcome you to your destiny.

The Soul of Service

Hmm.…no blog yesterday. That’s twice in one week. What’s up with that? Am I slipping? Am I copping out on my commitment? Good question. I have no idea. It does give me pause to wonder, though.

Amidst my ponderings about commitment, I keep hearing the words, “Be true to yourself” in my head. What does that mean, exactly? Again, no idea. Sigh. It looks as if this is shaping up to be one of those all-questions, no-answers kind of a morning. Out with the journal. Start writing.

Twice this month there were five blog readers. Five! Is it worth spending whatever time it takes to crank out a blog every day if I am writing in a vacuum? Might it be that readership is waning as a reflection of my own questionable commitment? Is it time to alter my writing plan and downsize to every other day? Is my commitment actually in question? Or is it simply that I have lost sight of my vision, mission, purpose? If I crank up my enthusiasm and recommit to my writing plan, will readership increase? And by the way—who am I writing for, and just who is it that is making this commitment, anyway? Who decides?

I recently went to a small family celebration in honor of a newly-minted doctor of pharmacology, who just completed a grueling internship at a hospital. One of her friends, a nurse, wowed us with her party planning skills—cupcakes topped with red and white capsules, pills, band-aids, and all things medical; there were personalized face masks for all, and a glittery gold banner adorning the wall. It was obvious from the expression on her face that sharing her party planning skills brought great joy to others as well as herself.

She was a reminder that every one of us is born with some sort of special skill, gift, or talent, sometimes buried, sometimes obvious. We are not fully alive unless and until we discover it within ourselves and find a way to express it, not just for our own enjoyment, but for the joy of others as well. Whether it is expressed as a hobby, vocation, or avocation is irrelevant; what matters is that creativity be expressed. As we use our talents, they grow. If we ignore them, they will disappear.

Was it worth it to the nurse wannabe-party planner to spend her time and energy doing something to make someone else happy? Judging by the glow on her face, I would say so. Is it worth it for me to spend my time and energy doing something for five people or a hundred or just one, even if the just one is myself? If it makes only me happy, if it brings me joy, is it worth it? The sharing of a gift is a service to the soul of others, sometimes in ways that we may neither know nor understand. What matters is only our willingness to share it.

Well, so there you have it—the answer to my commitment question all tied up in a neat little package with a pretty bow and some icing band-aids and pills on top. I’m writing for myself as an expression of my own creativity. Is it worth it? Yes. Does it make me happy? Yes. Is being happy being true to myself? Yes. Ah. Good to know. The world won’t end if I miss a day here or there, so long as I keep the goal in sight, and my eye upon the donut and not upon the hole. See you tomorrow folks. Or maybe the day after . . .

The Wonder of a Little Nap

Yesterday was a two-nap kind of day with a whole lot of nothing in between. Some days are just like that, I’ve noticed, and I usually wind up judging the state of my mind by how I feel at the end of one. Sometimes, a nap offers a welcome relief from the craziness, and sometimes it serves up a little depression cocktail with a dollop of guilt on top. Yesterday was the latter. Not my favorite kind of day.

It started out well enough with a pleasant walk and all and good intentions, but early on it began to deteriorate starting with the discovery that something was seriously amiss with my blog site. Great. Now I have to face a frustrating and lengthy online fix-it chat with a well-meaning faceless helper—you know what I mean, right?—like having to gird your loins to work your way up to a call with the cable or computer fix-it guy.

After an hour and a half of restating the answer to the same questions three or four different ways, the problem was finally resolved. Whatever energy, brain power, and coherence I had started with was sucked down the drain along with the energy to write. So much for the blog du jour. (Note to fellow bloggers: we never did resolve the inoperative like button problem.)

So I wonder—what makes a two-nap day perfectly fine one day, and a depressing guilt trip the next? Why was I happy yesterday but not today? What is going on in my head that makes the difference? And in case you might be wondering, no, I have never been diagnosed as bipolar.

After an extended night-long nap, I awoke with an aha. The scientific study of quantum physics have proven that there is a connection between the animal, plant, mineral, and human kingdoms. Everything has an impact on everything. Bear with me here—I’m getting to it . . .

The theme of many of my blogs relates to the impact of our thoughts, not just upon ourselves, but also upon others. If my thoughts ripple out and touch others, it is also true that in a reverse process, the thoughts of others ripple out and affect me. In my effort to monitor my thought process on behalf of others, I forget that I am just as vulnerable to the fearful thoughts and energies of others as they are to my positivity.

What this says to me is that I need to buck up! I need to gird my spiritual loins to protect myself against the negativity and fear unwittingly projected by others and do what I must in order to preserve a healthy state of mind and a positive world view. If I am to maintain my own peace of mind and be of benefit and service to myself and others, I need to be more vigilant about keeping myself in proper working order. I’m on it. Please join me and the growing army of loving hearts and positive minds that march toward a world transformed into one governed by love rather than fear.

By the way, I might add that at my age, there should never be guilt associated with a nap. I’ve earned every one of them. Hmm. Is it too early for the first one? Well, maybe a little walk first . . .

The Feeding of Bodies and Minds

I’m not a big fan of having do anything that I don’t want to do. Maybe you know the feeling? Anyway, when I was invited to attend a seminar about nutrition and healthy eating, I balked because I didn’t want to hear somebody tell me what I already knew and refuse to do, but lunch was included, so how could I resist? I figured that I might be choking down some miso and bean sprouts, but oh well.

Much to my surprise and delight, there was a fabulously delicious healthy meal, and nobody stood in my face lecturing me about what I had to stop doing that was wrong, or what I had to start doing that was right. Instead, there was just Elizabeth, handing me a piece of chocolate and teaching me how to eat it mindfully. I liked it (both the chocolate and mindful parts). I expected a lecture; instead, I got candy. What a deal! That says a little about expectations, doesn’t it? Now, when I receive a newsletter from Elizabeth, I open it up, enjoy it, and sometimes even try a recipe. I particularly enjoyed the pumpkin laced spaghetti sauce.

Today I am inspired to share a newsletter that I just received from Elizabeth because it perfectly echoes my philosophy of life, and says in someone else’s words what I’ve been babbling every day since mid-April. Positive thinking and good news always bear repeating, and sometimes it’s helpful to hear it from a new perspective. The topic is nutrition, but the premise reaches beyond the boundaries of healthy eating habits and can be shifted from what we feed our bodies to what we feed our minds. Elizabeth says it well:

“This is one of the most important pieces of advice I can give you to help you reach your nutrition goals:

There is no failure when it comes to nourishing your body—only FEEDBACK.

You simply can’t fail with your healthy eating goals when you adopt this outlook. One bad meal, day, week, or more does not dictate your entire nutrition journey. You cannot give up because you think you “messed up” using this approach.

The true measure of success—along with genuine transformation and lasting results—comes from the ability to get CURIOUS NOT CRITICAL.

The #1 most helpful thing you can do when you feel like you’ve gotten off track, overeaten, made poor food selections, skipped too many workouts, or whatever else your perceived “misstep” may be …is to ditch the crappy self-talk and defeatist thinking in favor of adopting a growth (instead of a fixed) mindset.

This means you need to learn how to ask the right questions… how to listen for the most helpful feedback… and know how to use the information you gather to inform your future food choices.

… go crush your goals!

You’ve got this.”

Yes. You do. Go for it! Thanks Elizabeth.

See more from Elizabeth here.

Seeing What I Do Not See

Do you remember the old adage, “If you want to make God laugh, tell Him about your plans.”? God must have had a good chuckle on me today. You’re welcome, God.

It shaped up to be a crooked sort of a day, with unscheduled twists and turns that jiggled whatever vague plans I may have had right out of the picture, including this morning’s blog. For starters, I logged in about five minutes on the meditation bench by the lake before I was jiggled out of my reverie by a phone call announcing a plumbing emergency on the home front. Back home I go to handle said water spout emergency.

Then just as I was ready to hunker down in blog mode with my computer, I was again sidetracked by a phone call from a favorite long-distance friend who found enough time to swing by with her precious jumbo labradoodle for a quick visit and walk. Said labradoodle arrived with a crippling paw problem that frazzled her owner and hobbled the pooch, and so much for the walk. Happily, before they left, we got it all worked out to everyone’s satisfaction in time to have a short visit.

Recently I’ve been reading a lot about unseen helpers—guides, guardian angels, archangels, angels in general, and such—mysterious entities hidden beyond the veil away from the view of mere mortal eyes. I find it all so fascinating that I’ve signed myself up for a course in learning how to develop better communication and connection with spirit guides. The more I read and practice, the more convinced I am that spirit helpers are everywhere. We’re surrounded by them, living in the midst of them, protected by an army of them.

Today, all of my plans and intentions went awry, everything went whacky on all fronts, and yet miraculously, somehow in the end, all of the rough edges were smoothed away and everything worked out perfectly. I guess it doesn’t matter if I have plans or not—apparently whatever plans God has for me are far better than whatever plans I can conjure up on my own. It has turned me into a believer. We have help, we have hope.

Another old adage is the one about a body at rest stays at rest; a body in motion stays in motion; to which I will add, a day amuck stays amuck. I proved me wrong on that last one. The muck disappeared, the water spout ceased spouting, the labradoodle miraculously walked again, and a blog was written.

My most current spirit-guide lesson suggests that I try to increase my awareness of the presence of helpers to see if I can discern the ways in which they assist. Judging by the outcome of today’s jiggles, I think that maybe there really is something to the possibility that Divine Helpers are alive, well, active, and busily at work smoothing out the ragged edges of my days, and indeed, my life.

Often, their work is obvious and clearly, miraculous. It makes me wonder—how much of their work do I not see or know about? How many times have they saved my bacon unbeknownst to me, while I go blithely along my way, utterly ignorant of their behind-the-scenes work on my behalf? I have absolutely no idea, but this much I do know: I’m going to make it my mission to get to know them better and thank them for all miracles both seen and unseen, starting now. So to you, my dear Divine Helpers, angels, guides, guardians, friends, teachers, and masters, my sincere and undying gratitude. Thank you.

The Cocoon of the Soul

I frittered away most of my writing time this morning, but oh well—there’s always later with lunch in between. One of the things that I’m learning in my time-out is to quit picking on myself about petty stuff. No, wait. Make that quit picking on myself about any stuff. It’s not good for the psyche. In a world where criticism about one thing or another is wildly abundant, what’s the point of adding an unhealthy heap of it upon myself? The rest of the world will be happy to do it for me.

Running away to solitude is a lovely temporary solution to remove myself from the world stage, but unless I’m prepared to repair to the wilderness for 40 days as Jesus did, or take the Buddha approach to enlightenment under the Bodhi tree, or cart myself off to an isolated mountaintop somewhere, eventually, I’ll need to return to the outside world. Do I want to? Well, not really. Not yet. I kind of like it here in the cozy container of my own home talking to myself and enjoying my own company. It’s a lovely little vacation away from anything that makes me cranky and it brings me peace. It parks me in a place where I am learning that the only judgment in my corner of the world at the moment is my own.

Sooner or later I will need to emerge from my cocoon, but until then, I’m hanging in here until I’m fully cooked. Or at least until my wings are strong enough to carry me through whatever storm might be brewing in the outer world once I decide to make a break for it. I don’t know what’s coming, but I know that I’m going to need all the strength I can muster to make it safely to a space of quiet calm.

What a great process. What a great opportunity to be in the world but not of it, to be able to sit back and watch the show without being a part of it, exempt from the drama, judgment, and the need to find a safe haven from the voices of personal opinion that separate and divide one from another, that perpetuate fear rather than love.

What a joyous vacation. What a sanctuary for the soul. What a gift of Spirit. How blessed I am to be able to enjoy it. My wish for humanity is that we all find the safety within the quiet of our hearts and rest there in gentle stillness for a while.