Blessings in Boo-Boos

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Stuff happens.  That was the opening sentence of yesterday’s original blog before the great delete debacle happened, and what could be a better example of stuff than that?  Lessons  Yep.  It happens when and where you least expect it.  There’s big stuff and little stuff and all sizes of stuff in between, but stuff it is, and the question becomes, so what am I going to do about it?

I got a chuckle out of the response from one reader who said that when stuff like that happens to her, she runs outside and yells “fire, fire!”  I am definitely going to try that sometime.  The neighbors may try to catch me with a butterfly net, but hey—that’s all part of the fun.

Fortunately, yesterday’s incident was a one-act play and I was the only actor.  Sometimes though, the stage is filled with an entire cast of characters enmeshed in a comedy of errors or a tragedy involving pain and suffering.  When personally involved in such a scenario, I like to pretend that I’m sitting in the audience observing the show from afar and not let myself become too entangled in the story.  When the play ends, I go home and analyze the plot to see what I might have changed, and study the parts of the players and my reaction to them.  Often, I rewrite the ending so that everyone walks away with a sense of peace and satisfaction

Ah, good old Pollyanna.  She loves those happy endings.

Then I take on the role of a theater critic, except instead of evaluating the play, the plot, and the acting, I look for meaning, lessons, and blessings.  Was it worth identifying with the pain or suffering happening on stage?  Was there a benefit involved, however miniscule or obscure?  Did I learn anything?  Is there something that I could have done differently?  If I had changed my reaction, might there have been a better outcome?

Sometimes I think that the stuff that happens is a set-up job to help us move forward on the pathway toward our own enlightenment.  Every glitch that comes our way arrives complete with an ending that allows us to learn a lesson, find a benefit, and embrace the blessing that is inherent within it.  The ending is up to the players.  We can choose happy, or we can choose unhappy.  Each actor decides his or her own role.

So did I choose a happy ending after yesterday’s big boo-boo?  Was there a lesson?  The world didn’t end because I made a mistake.  Was there a blessing?  Absolutely.  Once I recovered from the shock of what I had done, I thought the whole incident was hysterical.  I felt a profound sense of gratitude because I was able to recover quickly and whip out a replacement blog in the space of ten minutes, and enjoy the freedom of writing with the sense of wild abandon of dancing as if no one was watching.

God bless the boo-boos, for without them we would miss the profound teachings that life has to offer us.  The great lessons, gifts, and blessings always await our discovery, if we will but seek to find them.  Happy hunting, my friends.

What’s the Point?

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Some days are just better than others.  Some days I can sit down at the computer and stuff rolls out faster than I can type.  Other days, not so much.  Today is one of those other days.  I keep wanting to compare my life to my jumbled computer filing system, but that’s just bad news and doesn’t work out well.  It’s frustrating.

Friends tell me that during the pandemic, they’ve cleaned out every drawer, every closet in their home.  I, on the other hand, have added to my disorganization by creating a new anthology of computer files thanks to my recent habit of writing a daily blog.  Good luck to me if I want to add a link to something that I wrote days or weeks ago, because I can’t find it.  One of these days I’ll print them all out and stick them in a notebook with some sort of index system.  The whole sorry mess mirrors the closets and drawers of my life that still beg for my attention.  Sigh

Wait—is this the point where my dear friend who was upset with me for not showing myself in a more favorable light might be angry with me again?  Or perhaps is it the point where I might be a little angry with myself?  (See?  A link here would be a really nice touch, wouldn’t it?)

Okay, now I‘m stuck.  Where am I supposed to be going from here?  Is this the moment of panic where I say to myself, “See?  I knew I couldn’t do it!”?  Nope.  Not going there.

Maybe it’s time to have a little chat with myself.  Okay, fine.  So I’m stuck.  It’s not the end of the world. Maybe there’s a reason for stuck.  Is there a point to all of this go-nowhere jabber?  Am I missing something?

Oh—I get it.  Maybe the point is that I don’t always have to know what I’m doing, or what is going on, but it’s okay, because that’s life.  Maybe the point is that there doesn’t always have to be a point to everything, or that there may be one, but I just may not see it.  Maybe my only job is to let life flow without having to control the outcome, or have an opinion about everything, and just let it be whatever it is.  Maybe I’m just supposed to be the observer, the one who sits back, watches, and accepts without judging, who forgives and loves unconditionally.

I like it.  That kind of a life would work for me—a-let-go-let-God sort of an existence.  Maybe I just need to have enough faith, enough trust in the process to know that it’s all okay, whatever it is.  Pollyanna?  Maybe.  But isn’t that a better existence than stressing out over every cluttered closet or lost computer file, or guys who run around with M-14’s because they don’t want to wear masks?

Maybe it’s time to practice equanimity and work on seeking  a balance between being and doing (Be-Do).  I can be Pollyanna and still clean up a few computer files along the way.  I can shift my focus from fear to love.  I can have a little faith, trust myself, and add a link.  And I did.  Yay me.  It’s a start.  Just start.  Maybe that’s the point.

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’s in a Lifetime?

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It’s 7:35 a.m. and I’d like to push the publish button by 9:00 a.m. so I can start the day by attacking the stack of papers that grow in the night and taunt me in the morning.  Is anyone else experiencing a bout of laziness and/or procrastination during these days as shut-in’s, or is it just me?

If you’ve been following along for the past several days, you may have noticed a thread of self-doubt running through the pages.  Me too, and do you know what?  I’m sick of it.  Enough already.  It’s old news, it’s boring, and it’s time to move on to lighter and brighter things.

Okay, I’m struggling here.  Why isn’t this easy?  What am I doing wrong?  If this is an assignment and I’m willing to do it, why is it so hard?  You know me—I always want everything to be easy.  Easy suits my lazy nature.

The clock is ticking and I’m nowhere near completion.  Whoa.  Now there’s a profound statement if ever I heard one!  Will life run out before I’m finished?  It’s enough to poke me in the derriere with a hat pin and get me moving post haste.

Dear one, no one said that it would be easy.  Anything worth doing, being, or having is earned by virtue of the willingness to apply oneself to the task at hand.  For some that is easier than others, based upon the soul qualities that one chooses to work on at any given time.

Yes, well willingness is one thing.  Application is another.  In my case, I’m loaded with willingness, but I have the attention span of a gnat.

We beg to differ.  You may think that your attention is limited, but We would like you to review what you have accomplished during the course of your lifetime.  By keeping your eye upon the donut, as you like to say, you have marched steadily toward the achievement of your goals and desires, even though at times you may think otherwise.  Your evolutionary journey toward enlightenment is furthered by your willingness to accept this assignment.  We know that it is not easy, and it is not comfortable.  We have asked and you have answered, and for that We are grateful.  From your limited perspective it would appear that progress has been slow to the point of being imperceptible, but viewed from a distance We see you standing strong amidst the growing cadre of global lightworkers.  Hold the torch high to help light the path for others who struggle to find their way out of the dark.  This, indeed, is your assignment, and We thank you for your acceptance of it.

No, thank You, and you are welcome.  And thank You that it’s 8:42 and I think that I’m finished.  Well, at least for today.  A lifetime is another story.

 

Oops – There’s a Hole in My Head

pexels-photo-262488.jpeg I ask for creative inspiration and my front tooth falls out. Ha ha, very funny oh Great Cosmic Clown.

Lest you think me totally irreverent here, let me just say that I have a profound love and respect for the grand mysterious workings of the Universe and the power that lies behind it, whatever It is called. I also have a great appreciation of the gargantuan sense of humor inherent within it. Would that all of life’s tricky little life lessons were given with the ingredient of such wonderful humor. Perhaps they are, if one seeks to find it.

My six companions and I seek and find a Thai restaurant across the street from a theater on the upper west side in New York City.   We are on a two-hour dinner break from a riveting woo-woo workshop by Tom Kenyon. Those interested in checking out the woo-woo can go to tomkenyon.com. Yes, I’m finally willing to own up publically to my woo-woo leanings. It’s all a part of my recent decision to be authentic and true to myself—a risky move involving extreme vulnerability and definitely not for the faint of heart. If you haven’t tried it, and if you can muster up the courage, I highly recommend it.

Three of my dinner companions are eating with gusto, enjoying each morsel with that oooh-uahhh glazed-eyed look that overtakes one while in a fit of a divine dining delirium. Unbeknownst to the glazed-eye set, the rest of us are trying to choke down what might possibly qualify as the worst meal of our lives. But no matter – we aren’t really that hungry anyway after our tasty but frenetic lunch at a deli where we are rendered half deaf courtesy of fellow diners intent upon outshouting one another, and sound bouncing back and forth from a bare floor to a ceiling that suffers a serious lack of acoustic tiles.

Waiters whiz by our table at break-neck speed taking and delivering orders, while beleaguered busboys swoop away dishes from tables and send them crashing into huge plastic tubs just behind our booth. We are so intimidated by the pace of it all that we are reluctant to ask for the things that one would hope for in a deli, like straws, lemon, and mayo. Oy. Ulcer Gulch Deli.

Meanwhile, back at the dinner table, I bite into a soft summer roll dipped in peanut sauce and encounter something that clearly is not on the ingredient list. I discreetly sift through the ingredients that actually belong there, and while no one is looking, pick the unidentified object out of my mouth, and place it on my plate. It wasn’t very long before I discover that said mystery object is the fallen tooth responsible for a new gaping hole between two front teeth. I am now compelled to not to smile and talk simultaneously. Rats. I should have ordered soup.

Dinner ends and we return ourselves to the care and keeping woo-woo Tom who describes for us the upcoming meditation that will focus on clearing out the obstacles that prevent us from self love—obstacles of all manner and size, and sometimes brought on by seemingly insignificant things, such as a bad hair day, a pimple on a nose, or . . .

At this point it is all I can do not to jump out of my seat and shout, “Or a gaping hole in the middle of your smile!” but I manage to restrain myself.

It’s a very interesting exercise to rate oneself on a vanity scale from one to ten. A bad hair day might put me at about a six or seven depending upon the degree of badness. A nose pimple (I don’t even like that word) could be a four. But a toothless grin? That could well rate a minus something.   I’m mildly embarrassed to confess that the toothless experience explodes my awareness into the realization that appearance means more to me that I’d like to admit.   Bad hair days, pimples, and a toothless grin make mighty good grist for the self-image mill. Happily, I find comfort in knowing that I’m not alone in this one. What a great opportunity to get a good up-close-and-personal bird’s eye view of vanity and the role it plays in my life. Did I mention that I’m also working on willingness to allow myself to be vulnerable? What? Confess my shortcomings in public and own up to my own vanity? Horrors!

Day is done, and Amtrak whips us southward through the black of night toward home. A 2:30 a.m. arrival time seems forever away. I fidget in my seat in search of a wee modicum of comfort and try to settle in to review the experience du jour.   I find myself rehearsing my response to friends who will surely ask me about the day.   “Well,” I’ll say, “the weather was cold, windy, and miserable and mealtimes waffled between bad and worse.  One traveling companion suffered from an ailing shoulder, another was barely able to walk due to extremely painful knees and back, and I lost a front tooth and my dignity, all in one innocent little bite.” Well, so other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you enjoy the play? It was amazing. My years of travel in the wonderful world of woo-woo made it all worthwhile and bearable, and allowed good humor and acceptance of what-is to make it a deliciously savory experience.

Joy of joy, my dentist responds to my frantic texts for a fix-it plan before I reach Wilmington. As I drive to my appointment the next day, my mind unleashes a flood of appreciation and I feel suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude for the extra hole in the head, along with its attending vanity crush. It reminds me about how grateful I am that my teeth have remained faithful and in tact in spite of decades of wear and tear. I am grateful for my dentist, God bless him, who was willing and able to make time on his Sunday during a beautiful Memorial Day weekend to do damage repair and plug up the hole where a tooth should be. While I was at it, I gave thanks for my trusty and reliable little Honda and the gas in its tank, and the money to pay for damage repair, and for everything else in my world that came to mind as I wheeled my way around a traffic-jam free beltway. I gave thanks for that too. I just love the random bouts of unexplained joy brought about by an abundance of gratitude! Come to think of it, at moments like these, I love just about everything.

When I told Dr. Fixit of these newly minted insights, he said simply, “You made lemonade.”

I did. I made lemonade. The ingredients are a sweet, delicious blend of authenticity, vulnerability, and gratitude with a pinch humor mixed in for a bit of comic relief.

And speaking of sweet, in closing, I’d like to offer a special thanks to the Great Cosmic Clown for answering my request for inspiration in such a creative, humorous, and holy way (yes, pun intended). It’s so easy to love the lovable. The trick is to love it all—the good, the bad, the ugly—the bad hair days, the pimples, the holes in places where holes are not meant to be, and most especially, the self—and all those other selves out there in the world that some days seem so utterly unlovable. Right now, this minute, I love it all.  Right now, this minute is all I have. I’d better get busy then and make the most of it while I’m still a grateful guest of our beautiful planet earth, courtesy of the grand cosmic plan.