Forgiveness – Voices in My Head

Tests, Trials and Tee Shirts

While searching through the morass of my computer files, I accidentally stumbled across a piece of writing that I did in 2005 BC (before Covid). Having come upon it again, I just couldn’t resist passing it on.

The scenario: It’s 11:00 a.m. on a Sunday morning in the busy Men’s Furnishings Department at Nordstrom. Customers are milling about waiting to be helped. The phone rings, I answer. Big Mistake. A woman starts in . . . (I give you HER end of the conversation only). Note: All caps indicates that she’s screaming.

FINALLY! Somebody answered the phone.

Do you still carry the Nordstrom tee shirts that are made in Canada?

That’s NOT what I asked. Can you go check?

What other brands do you carry?

Where are they made?

Are they combed cotton?

What else do you have?

What is Underarmor?

Are they thinner than the Nordstrom?

Read me the label.

What do you mean, microfiber?

Read me the part about breathability again.

What size is medium?

What size is large?

Is the Nordstrom thinner than the Calvin Klein?

Can you wait while I go get one to see what size I have?

Can you wait while I try it on to see if it fits?

NO! I CAN’T WAIT WHILE YOU ANSWER ANOTHER PHONE. I’VE BEEN TRYING TO GET THIS DONE FOR TWO DAYS AND NOBODY COULD DO IT YESTERDAY BECAUSE THEY WERE TOO BUSY. I DON’T WANT TO WAIT WHILE YOU TALK WITH SOMEBODY ELSE ON THE PHONE. I JUST WANT TO GET THIS DONE SO I CAN GET ON WITH ANOTHER PROJECT.

Are the Calvin Klein’s thinner than the Nordstrom?

Okay, I’ll take a package of the medium Nordstorm.

BUT LISTEN. THIS IS IMPORTANT.

Do NOT send me the package you scanned. You’ll have to scan one, then send me one that hasn’t been scanned because I can’t have anything that’s been scanned around me.

How do you ship them?

What service do you use?

Do NOT send it by mail. It has to be shipped, not mailed.

How long will it take?

Why will it take so long? Last time they came in a day.

How much is shipping?

Why is it so much? Last time it was only $3.00. Why is it so expensive? I don’t want to pay more than $3.00 because that’s what I paid the last time.

What is the total?

NO. I WANT TO KNOW NOW. I CAN’T WAIT FOR YOU TO CALL ME BACK. I JUST WANT TO GET THIS DONE SO I CAN GO ON TO ANOTHER PROJECT.

When will you call me back?

You’ll call me back in 10 minutes?

LISTEN. THIS IS IMPORTANT.

Do NOT ship in a mailing envelope. It HAS to be shipped in a box.

Ship it signature required.

When will it arrive?

Her charge doesn’t go through.

I have an incorrect phone number, so I can’t call her back. AAAARRRRRRGGGGGGG! Is this a test?

Obviously, she doesn’t get the shirts.

She calls the store manager a few days later and goes through the entire routine with him. I forgot to void the original transaction so she gets charged twice

Fortunately, I kept all of the paper work.

She calls the manager again. In frustration equal to mine, he ends up wiping both charges from her account and sends her shirts are free.

Next year, she’ll probably call again and expect more free shirts and free shipping. I hope to God that I‘m not the one who answers the phone when she does.

Lest I forget, I go home and write the experience while it’s still fresh in my mind. The next morning, I showed it to a colleague. She asked for a copy to for her husband to read so that he’ll understand the sort of thing that we have put up with around here . . .

It isn’t always easy to face the fears of others in the face of our own, particularly during these exceptionally difficult times in which we live. Daily, we must choose between right and wrong, and decide how to behave under confusing circumstances that demand our attention. In the long run, it all boils down simply to one choice only: will I act in love, acceptance, and forgiveness, or will I allow judgment, fear, and anger to rule my mind?

Tee Shirt Lady surely did try my patience on that busy Sunday morning years ago. If this entire scenario occurred BEFORE Covid, can you imagine what in Heaven’s name those in the service industry must have to endure AFTER Covid? Pray for them and be kind. They need all of the love they can get. Don’t we all?

The Waiting Room

Déjá-vu. If you’re curious about who you are, try waiting for a while.

There are nearly three hours to wile away at the dealership where my car is being serviced. I don’t mind. It’s what I do best—sitting, waiting . . .

There are six of us in the room: two are on computers, two are on phones, and one is punching keys on an iPad. My computer is on my lap as I decide what to do next. iPad guy is wagging his head back and forth in what I can only assume is a response to the bad news that he is reading. The computer people are plugged up with ear buds. Intermittently, they drag out their iPhones for a quick look and poke away at keys. The room is completely devoid of eye contact.

Good grief. Where have we all gone? Off into a world of cyberspace as far away as we can get from one another. The cyber scene in front of me prompted me to put away my toys and opt for reading a book instead, Finding My Father’s Faithby a favorite blogger, Wynne Leon. A real, live, honest-to-God book with a cover and paper pages to turn. Another talented author, artist and blogger friend, Nancy Wait, makes the most of her name as she wiles away time spent on the subway by sketching marvelous images of sleepers dozing peacefully as she whips through the dark underbelly of New York City.

I sit and cool my jets while hanging out in a room full of noncommunicative people quietly absorbed in their various versions of electronics. Years ago in my Honda waiting room before electronics hijacked the world’s attention, quite a different story played itself out. Folks hid away in their inner worlds reading newspapers or books or like me, sat quietly with eyes closed. My closed-eye peace was interrupted on one waiting-room day when a mom asked her small daughter if she’d like to watch TV. No matter that the kid was peacefully absorbed in reading her own book. Drat. So much for enjoying a moment of quiet stillness.

The TV didn’t work. Thank goodness. From nowhere, the quiet readers sprang forth to assist, while I experienced an instant sense of resentment over the soon-to-be interruption. I consoled myself with the idea that this sweet little girl would probably enjoy something quiet, soothing—but no. Instead, she opted for a loud, violent scenario in which a building suddenly morphed into a ginormous unbelievably noisy and threatening robot intent upon destroying anything in its path. So much for assumptions. So much for reverie. So much for my wishes and my desires. Did anyone ask how I felt about this sudden shift in the disturbance of my reality? No. Did they care? No. Did I? Definitely!

As I sit in today’s Hyundai waiting room and wonder why I am writing this blog the answer creeps into awareness. It reminds me that life is like a waiting room—full of people who are strangers to us, each lost within his/her own head, each separated from one another by virtue of what goes on in the world of personal thought. It is easy to feel helpless in the face of situations that we cannot control, and frustrated by the decisions made by others without our permission—decisions that have a personal impact upon us. So often we are at the mercy of those around us in a desired world just beyond our reach.

My personal waiting room is a wonderful place to see an infinite variety of souls and scenarios—some to my liking, some not. What a wonderful place to just sit and observe the contents of my world reflected back to me inside of my head. What a perfect opportunity to look into the crumpled fragments of my own inner workings and take care of the pieces that need a bit of smoothing out.

Thank goodness for the kindhearted souls among us who rush in to be helpful—even if their help is not necessarily needed, wanted or welcomed by all. They provide me with a rich opportunity to look at attitudes and feelings that spring forth as a result of their good intentions. I may not be able to control the acts of others, but I can control my attitude. I can decide whether I would prefer to react in anger or to respond with love and forgiveness. I can choose acceptance and peace of mind, or I can choose judgment and resentment.

Who am I? I am who I choose to be.

Déjá-vu indeed. I’ve been in this waiting room for a very long time, and I think that it might be a very long time before I get back into my car and drive off into the sunset. I choose to be ready. While I wait, I want to do everything I can to graduate to the place where waiting rooms are nonexistent, and nothing exists but the unspeakably beautiful glory of what awaits us on the other side of the veil. Now that’s something worth waiting for!

As a final note, I’m happy to proclaim that this blog was started in the waiting room yesterday, finished in the Lazygirl today, and escaped the risk of being lost in the dumpster tomorrow (here). There’s hope for me yet. There’s hope for everything, friends. Keep the faith—and add your light to the vision of a waiting room filled with love, peace, joy, truth, beauty. Don’t forget to factor in the eye contact that allows us to truly see and appreciate another—and behold the best in all.

Stories I Tell Myself

Sometimes a day without a blog is like a day without my morning coffee fix. This is one of them. A couple of days ago I wrote a blog about kindness. Today it may be about love but who knows? If not today, then maybe tomorrow or the next day.

But no, today is about the fake news I tell myself. This morning I caught myself asking how I would manage to check everything off my daily to-do list. Christmas is snapping at my heels, there are letters to answer, a birthday present to deliver, a blog waiting to be written, phone calls to return, decisions to be made, business to handle, and the beat just on going. How ever will I get it all done?

Well I’ll just do the best I can. Yeah, but my best could be a lot better. Uh oh. I can always be better but I’m not. That’s a downer if ever there was one. When will I ever be better? How will I get there from here and how long will it take? Oh but wait just a minute . . .

Well, I’ll just do the best I can for now. There may come a time when my best improves, but for today, my best is my best and I’m happy with that, because I know that I have time and room enough to grow into a better version of myself tomorrow. Ahh. Now I’m better!

As a wise person once said to me, “If you could do any better, you would.” We all would. We just need to give ourselves the space to dream up a new and better version of ourselves, and in time we will wake up and be surprised that we have morphed into the person of our dreams. It’s such a gradual process that we may not even recognize the change within ourselves until one day when we look back and say, “Wow! I’ve come a long way, baby!” Thank God for that. And thank God for time, space, room, and a vision to grow into.

While we wait for the great morph event, it is tempting to fall into the guilty trap. I’m a bad person. I’m not living up to my potential. Instead of doing what I should be doing, I’m doing what I shouldn’t. Guilty, guilty, guilty. Why is it that forgiveness is so much easier to give to another than to ourselves? Why do we berate ourselves for our perceived sins and keep ourselves hanging on the guilty hook when we readily and willingly forgive others? Isn’t God quick to forgive us as we are quick to forgive others? And yet here we are, continuously hanging onto our perceived wrongdoings in an effort to punish ourselves for our so-called sins. Oh, please.

One of my favorite spiritual teachings from A Course in Miracles is that there is no need for forgiveness because we have not done anything wrong. If we have not done anything wrong, there is nothing to be guilty about, nothing to punish ourselves for, nothing to keep us from experiencing ourselves as anything other than pure, unadulterated love. It may sound blasphemous, but it is we ourselves who have made up the fake news that we tell ourselves, and who believe our delusions of wrongdoing. We are the ones with the power to return ourselves to sanity simply by denying the self-created fake news, the part of ourselves that would have us believe that we are less than the Truth of who we are, which is love.

Identify not with the external, personality, ego self that you think you are for it is fake news. Instead, love yourself as the beautiful soul that you truly are. Can you even begin to imagine what it would be like to live in a world of a soul-identified humanity? Just as we know that a toddler is destined to grow into an adult, so must we trust and know that day by day, soul by soul, we are changing and growing into the version of ourselves that we are meant to be and we have a front row seat. Please join the parade of the newly-awakening so that one day we can take a collective look back, and say, “Wow! We’ve come a long way, baby!”

Ahh. There you have it. This blog is about love after all. It just didn’t quite take the form that I thought it might. Maybe tomorrow. Or the next day. Oh and by the way—I just crossed one to-do off todays list and made space for the next thing. Hmm—what will be next? A letter perhaps, or a phone call, or check all of the above? Has my best just gotten a little better? I think maybe so. Yay me and hallelujah! I’ve come a long way, baby!

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)

Opting for Better Options

Another day, another blog. I think I’m beginning to get the hang of it.

In the continuing saga of my cobweb-clearing time-out, I took an early morning walk down to the lake for another round of peaceful space-staring and thumb-sucking. My bench was covered with morning dew. Rats! I stood shifting from one foot to another for a while, trying to figure out if I wanted to soggy myself up with morning dew or give it up and go back home. I decided in favor of dry bottom and headed home. Phooey. Oh well—on to Plan B, whatever that is. I guess I’ll have to make it up as I go.

On the return trip I met Kathleen and her dog Charlie (by their dogs ye shall know them) and we chatted for a while about my dog Charlie who, sadly, crossed the Rainbow Bridge last February. The thing about dog lovers is that nobody ever runs out of something to talk about. Ah, but I digress. After swapping names and contact information with my new friend, I went on my happy way and came upon an old friend—one I’ve known for several years. Old friend, new friend, grateful for all friends no matter age nor tenure.

But again I digress. This morning I saw a horrifyingly fascinating video of a full grown leopard with an alligator equal in size clamped between its massive jaws, hauling the thing out of the water and up a hill. It was pretty clear that one of the two was headed for the Rainbow Bridge, and my money was on the leopard. That is not a picture that I will soon forget.

To say that the scene was unsettling would be an understatement at the very least, made worse because there was something in it that seemed vaguely familiar. Uh oh. It reminded me of myself. Surely, nature is one of the best, and the cruelest of teachers.

I ask myself—am I the leopard or the alligator? Sometimes when my attempt at trying to get something to conform to whatever it is that I want, I am tempted to grab the thing by the scruff of the neck like a puppy with a stuffed toy and shake it until its stuffings fall out. It’s a pretty sure bet that my temptation to wrestle my way through a situation won’t always work out in my favor. Amidst a roomful of people who collectively agree with an idea that differs from my own, the chances of my success decrease exponentially. Let go or die, kill or be killed.

Somewhere in this scenario, I do believe that there must be a better approach. This morning’s aborted bench mission turned out to be just the blessing I needed. I traded in a wet bottom for a warm heart and reminded myself that sometimes it’s a better idea to just unclench my jaws, let the alligator go, and opt for Plan B instead. I may not get exactly what I wanted, but I just might get something even better.

Getting a Grip

Yesterday, when I went to fetch a copy of the blog du jour from the jaws of the printer, it wasn’t there. Wait—where is it? Didn’t I print it out? Then I remembered—oops I forgot to write it. After three months of perfect attendance, I forgot? Really? That can’t be good.

If you’ve been following along recently, you may remember reading that life in my lane has presented me with another marvelous opportunity to get over myself, learn another new lesson or two, and take the next step forward on the personal growth path. I make a wish for—oh, I don’t know—whatever floats my boat, and suddenly shazam—like magic, whoosh—here we go again off on another merry round of learning. Watch what you wish for.

This time, it’s like someone came along and uttered one simple little sentence that pushed the plunger that exploded the dynamite that blew the cover off my foxhole that exposed me to the dirt that has lurked beneath the surface that tormented me for eons. Whoa. Scary. I think I still must have a whole lot to learn. At this point, I can’t say for sure how I’m doing, but every once in a while I catch a brief glimmer of hope.

I think that maybe the extended days of COVID restrictions are making us all a little crazy. What started as a kind of interesting fun little extended recess at home moment has morphed into the realization that frustration has replaced fun, and that we will be socially distancing and wearing our masks for a v-e-r-y long time. Our recess has gifted us with frustration, exposing frayed nerves and tests of patience. We are chomping at the bit to get back to the beaches, eat in restaurants, swim in pools, and return to our fitness centers. Now, more than ever, we want and need physical activity to dissolve the stress and the frustration of the limitations placed upon us. I have lost control of certain aspects of my life and now, crankiness has replaced civility. It is disturbing to watch as I try to wrestle my selfishness into the willingness to come to grips with my inability to have what I want when I want it. No wonder I still have lessons to learn.

Uh oh, watch out everybody. It looks like she is going to smack us with another cheery little lecturette again. Always on a rainbow unicorn toot–love everybody, forgive everything, look for the good, blah blah blah. Yep. Preaching to myself, mostly. I guess I won’t get it until I get it. The good news, though, is that at least I know I will get around to listening to the smart Voice in my own head eventually. Maybe someday I might even pay attention.

The only thing I know for sure is that I’ve finished today’s blog—or is this yesterday’s blog today? I am brimming with the hope that I’ll ace this pesky marvelous growth opportunity soon. Soon, soon, soon. The current curriculum is pretty intense, but I’m not dropping out. I’m going to stick in there no matter what, watch intently to see what unfolds next, and remember that tomorrow is another day and another blog.

The Lone Rainbow

This morning I opened an email that sent me straight up and out of my Lazygirl off into the heat and humidity to have a walk through the wilds of the neighborhood and a little talk with myself in the hope of getting my head straight and finding a bit peace and serenity along the way.

Trust the good old Universe to present the perfect opportunity to learn a lesson at just the right time. Heap it on, I say. Let’s see how much I can take before it all crashes down around my shoulders and crushes the life out of me. Okay, so the pedal is to the metal. Can I put my money where my mouth is and practice what I preach? Good question, I say to myself, as I try to claw my way through the clutter of my mind in search of a bit of daylight. It’s all well and good to carry on like the rainbow unicorn that I like to pretend that I am, but are unicorns really real? Is this another test?

I walk to the lake and park myself on a shady bench to meditate and cogitate for a while in hopes of getting what I came for. I watch as my mind bounces me up and down like a yoyo traveling at warp speed. It’s all too much to sort through. Too many twists and turns, too many complications and complexities, too many emotions coming from too many directions, too much at stake, too many possible outcomes, not all of them good.

I hear a slight splash that calls my attention to the water’s surface and watch as ripples spread in concentric circles from the point of center. It dawns on me that my thoughts and feelings spread out from my own point of center and wash over everything and everyone within range, and that the range is infinite.

There is something within me that wants to hang on to anger and gnaw on it like a Doberman with a juicy bone, to not let go until I’ve sucked the essence out of it. A saying from Eckhart Tolle flashes across my mind: Sometimes letting things go is a far greater power than defending or hanging on. Now if I could just convince my mind about that. Would that I could just practice what I preach about the power of the mind. It isn’t easy, but at least it’s a goal. Goals count for something.

So I have another talk with myself between the yoyo bounces and try to talk myself into shifting gears from anger into forgiveness. I try to remember that the ripples aren’t mine alone, but that they reach into infinity and therefore affect everyone else in their path, even those who are innocent bystanders.

This morning’s ripple effect reminds me that thoughts matter and that what I choose to think makes a difference. In my quest for peace, I realize that it’s a lonely endeavor, an inside job. No one can hand it to me; I have to find it within myself. It looks as if I’ve fallen a little short of passing the test today. I haven’t made it to total forgiveness yet but I’m working on it—maybe tomorrow. Like yesterday’s pony in the manure, somewhere, there’s a rainbow, and I’ll find it eventually. After all, what’s a unicorn without the rainbow?

The Path of Joy

In spite of yesterday’s blog extolling the virtues of living in the shiny new moment of now and of not reliving my yesterdays, sometimes bits of the past come flying up unexpectedly and hurl themselves in front of my face screaming for attention. So much for peace of mind. Hagotcha! Darn. I thought I was over that. Maybe not, else why would it reappear? Is this another test?

Well, so here’s the good news—at least these nagging bedevilments are making themselves known so that I can decide whether or not to address them or just shovel them back down into the dirt out of sight, out of mind. But if allowed free rein, they just keep coming up again. And again. Shall I listen up and pay attention, or shall I get out the shovel? My choice.

In the midst of my most recent in-your-face confrontation with the ego, I had a peek through the window of my soul and could see how easy it is to allow despair and depression to take control and cloud judgment. In my role as a witness I could clearly observe myself in a head-to-head conflict over which aspect of myself would win the battle—the ego, or the Self.

Let me just say—I do not like conflict. Conflict in any form, either with myself or another person makes me want to turn and run the other way. Yep—I admit it. I’m a coward. If I pull the ostrich act and don’t see it, I won’t have to deal with it. But if there is no facing it, there is no resolving it. Obviously, it won’t just magically disappear itself because it will just come up. Again.

The quest for personal growth presents moments such as these. It means mustering up the willingness and courage to confront anything that stands in the way of achieving the bliss of a peaceful mind. Yes, sometimes it brings up issues that I’d rather not deal with, but the struggle is worth the reward of awakening to the yearning of the Soul that wishes for nothing more than to bestow the gift of joy.

These days, when I am rudely awakened by past memories and unhappy thoughts that trigger old wounds, I take my own advice and remind myself to be grateful for the recognition that there is something within me that needs my loving attention. I ask for help with forgiveness and pray for the release of anything that no longer serves to bring me closer to my Self, my Soul. It is safe to take my head out of the sand and breathe freely because conflict has evaporated. No longer must I learn through suffering and struggle, for that path has been transformed into one of joy.

Ah. Blessed relief. Now I am back in the shiny new moment of now.

Light Up the Dark Corners

Some days it’s hard not to become disheartened by bad news. I may have stopped watching TV, but still, it’s hard to avoid the stories about customers who verbally and physically attack retail employees, or protesters with oozies out to protect their selfish rights, or governmental corruption, lies, political dirty tricks, and round and round we go where she stops, God only knows. So much ugliness in the world coming at us from so many different directions. Heaven help us.

If I were to allow myself to focus on all of this distressing news, surely I would be caught up in a frenzy of hopelessness unable to see a way out, or worse, be sucked into the fray by the unbridled fear-mongering heaped upon us daily by the media. It’s why I turned off the TV.

We need to see the light.

My mother used to say, “Light up the dark corners.” When she said it, she meant the room.

When I say it, I mean the world.

Before he died in 1991 at age 40, Lee Atwater, chairman of the Republican National Committee and manager of George Bush’s 1988 successful presidential campaign, took responsibility for his actions of “naked cruelty” by setting out upon a mission of making amends to those who had been hurt by his underhanded political tactics. “I did not invent negative politics,” he said, “but I am one of its most ardent practitioners.”

His deathbed confessions and apologies, according to some who knew him well, were fueled by his fear that he would go to hell for his actions. Perhaps this could be considered as an unlikely side benefit that fear provides for motivation for a change of heart.

Whatever the cause of his desire for repentance, it pales in comparison to the implication that change is not an impossible dream, even under the very worst of conditions. In fact, it may even seem miraculous that a man capable of such incredible manipulation and control might suddenly turn into the poster child for political good behavior and seek forgiveness for his self-serving actions.

It gives me hope. It gives me the hope that if Lee Atwater saw the light and could change, perhaps others will as well. It is not an impossible dream. Minds are changed one at a time. Perhaps the light might dawn upon one angry customer, or one armed protester, or one corrupt politician and bring about a change of heart.

If one person lights one match in a darkened room, all will be able to see. If one person turns on one light in one corner of a dark room, the room will be illuminated. Each one of us who sees and focuses on the light helps to dispel the darkness. Each one of us can help to change the world, one mind at a time.

When enough of us participate in lending light to the darkness, when the world is well enough lit, we will all enjoy the beauty, harmony, and bounty of a glorious new life on our beloved earth.

So please help in the effort of transformation and turn on your light. Light the match. Light the light. See the light.

Light up the dark corners.

The Heart Knows the Way

Yesterday I was broke. Here Today I am lazy.

The day that I was born, my sister became my mother and adopted me as her very own living, breathing baby doll. The fact that she was only two years older did not get in her way. She went about her task with fierce determination, meeting my every need before I needed it, doing everything for me that I could not do for myself. She continued her mothering duties well past the years when I was old enough to do for myself. Not surprisingly, I earned the reputation for being lazy because for some odd reason, I simply didn’t bother to do anything for myself. Imagine that.

I won’t give her full credit nor blame for my well-earned lazy reputation, because chances are that I showed up in life with lazy as my middle name. Nonetheless and even so, in her well-meaning mothering helpfulness, she facilitated the process and sealed the deal. Lazy I was.

My family claimed that I liked to get up earlier so I could loaf longer. Efficiency experts agree: If you want to get something done, give it to the laziest person in the room because she will find the quickest, easiest, fastest way to get the job done. So true. Efficiency equals longer loaf time.

If there is any truth in my belief that we arrive here on classroom earth with a fully loaded curriculum specifically tailored for our soul’s growth, then I was parked in the perfect family to help me realize and understand my need to overcome the obstacles that I brought with me into the classroom. Broke and lazy.

But here’s the good news. Like two sides of the same coin, we also come equipped with the wherewithal and the way to grab our demons by the tail and fling them over the cliff of self-doubt and fear. We have the ability to gain mastery over ourselves and whatever beliefs we hold that cast a shadow over the joy that is our inherent birthright. It’s all a part of the journey toward wholeness.

Easier said than done, one may say. How do you erase the pain of the past and heal old, worn out belief systems that stand in the way of personal peace and happiness? How does one answer such a question in the Reader’s Digest version of a lifetime quest?

For two years I held a grievance involving a husband and a friend. Not until I was able to see the profound damage that I was doing to myself by my unwillingness to forgive did I begin to realize the benefit of letting it go. Incentive and willingness became the key. Dear God, I want to forgive, but I don’t know how. Please help.

Sometimes it helps to take a “what’s in it for me” approach. Focus on the donut. Seeing the benefit can provide the energy that fuels the desire to make a change, even though doing so may be uncomfortable. Every situation is different. Every solution is different. Every soul is a wise teacher with our best interests at heart. Follow your heart, ask for help, listen to the teacher, study hard for your tests, and a diploma is your sure reward.. It isn’t easy, but it’s always worth it. Godspeed.

Learning Lessons in Real Time

I just spent a couple of hours writing today’s blog. I put the finishing touches on it before pushing the publish button, then accidentally pushed the delete button instead. Shoot me now. It was all about how everything happens for a reason and that there is a lesson that can be found in every unhappy, unfortunate situation. Well now. Didn’t I just give myself the opportunity of a lifetime to practice what I preach? Back to square one. Sigh.

Fellow writers and bloggers, can you relate? Lesson 1: Save. I knew that, but I flunked Save. Some of us are slow learners.

So I suck my heart back up out of my stomach and begin again. Okay, so where was I? There was something about learning from my mistakes, about wrenching my elbow out of joint while trying to extract my foot from my mouth, blah blah blah.

It was about converting miseries into miracles. I felt pretty good about it too, and even managed to find a link to add (a shortcoming, you may recall) but now alas, poof—it’s all gone. Maybe with luck I can find a new link to the thing about links. Stay tuned but don’t hold your breath.

Meanwhile, like the kid in the room with all of the manure, I know that there must be a pony in here somewhere.

Well I’m just going to have to fumble my way through this one till I find a point, or come to an end, or figure it out, or giggle my way through this cruel twist of fate, or maybe suss out a lesson, or learn to get by on a hum, a wing, and a prayer. You know—resort to your basic stream-of-consciousness stuff. What can I say?

One of the things that I’ve learned along the way is that by the time I’ve pushed the publish button, I feel as if I’ve put in a whole day’s work and it’s only 9:00 a.m. I’m done. It’s breakfast first then nap. Like I always say—we get to repeat our lessons until we learn them. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

It would really be cool if the missing blog suddenly reappeared like magic but I doubt that’s going to happen. But the miracle that I was talking about in the missing blog was about finding compassion, love, healing, and happy endings in the midst of what I call the miseries, those life situations that make you want to pull the ostrich act and run off in search of sand into which to stick the head, kind of like now, this moment, when I’d like to run off and stick my head under the covers.

Well so here’s my question to myself. Have I learned anything here (besides push the Save button, I mean)? I don’t know about that yet. It’s a little too soon. Maybe I’ll figure it out later. Or not.

Maybe it’s just about another lesson in letting go, and going with the flow, of being okay with the way things are, of loving and forgiving myself in spite of my silly foibles, of making the best of whatever the situation is. The deleted blog took a lot of time and thought. This one was whipped off in about ten minutes and was a whole lot more fun to write. Don’t know about you, but I enjoyed the process. Hope you enjoyed the read!

Ta ta for now. Off for my nap.