Humor – Voices in My Head

A Deep Breath and a Little Courage

Jump out of an airplane and free fall through my fear? Yikes! That’s exactly how it felt on that February day in 2018 when I took my heart in my hands and pushed the publish button on my very first blog.

First time anything’s can be terrifying—the first day of school, a new job, or meeting face to face with an online date. Brian Hannon’s blog, Birth of a Blogger, catapulted me back to the moment when I decided that it was about time to take the leap across the chasm of fear and face the unknown by starting a blog—then muster up the courage to push the publish button. Double yikes!

My launch into the blogging world was particularly frightening because my writing style is often personal and self-revealing. Occasional self-deprecation leads readers to wonder if I’m joking to make a point, or if I’m serious, or check all of the above. It opens the door for readers to view my ramblings through the lens of their own inner vision, which can lead to various interpretations of who they think I am. Sometimes they get it right—sometimes not. Sometimes I don’t get it right myself and that’s okay, because through it all, I have learned that no matter what others may think of me, it is only important what I think of myself.

I invite you to take a trip across the chasm of fear into faith, knowing that no matter what you do or how you do it, it’s all a part of a journey toward wholeness. I invite you to experience my first free fall into the unknown world of blogging. I hope you’ll tag along and enjoy the ride. Who knows—we may even meet somewhere in the open space of joy along the way.

Ready? Here we go!

It’s About Time.

Wheee!

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?

Sunny Side Up!

Occasionally I am jolted awake by the sudden realization that I have been sleepwalking through my days in a full-blown funk attack. Yesterday, for example, I suddenly woke up from my somnambulism and saw that I had been duped by the voice of fear again! This time, guilt was the culprit that managed to con me into a false belief that I am a worthless, useless slug. Drat. I hate it when that happens. It always gets me when I’m not looking—when I relax the vigilance necessary to protect myself against the sneaky chokehold of fear. Ah, the human condition. When will I learn?

Last night as I was trying to drift off to sleep, the unrelenting voice of the untamed ego reared its tricky head to remind me of my many shortcomings and the things about myself that I think of as unlovable and unworthy. As a final zinger to my self-esteem, it also refreshed my memory about the plethora of undone things that I promised myself that I would do and haven’t—which, as it happens, turns out to be the source of the guilt du jour. Heaven help me!

As I wrestled with this unholy, unhealthy state of mind, I was reminded of the horrendously negative aspects of guilt. Then it dawned on me that when I allow myself to succumb to it, I am actually doing something—but what I am doing is the exact opposite of what I want to do. I am sending ever-expanding ripples of negativity and fear out into the world—and that is not the job that I signed up to do! Oops—I got it bass-ackwards again. Where is vigilance when I need it?

By allowing guilt and fear to take up residence in my head—even for an instant—I am defeating myself before I ever take my first step onto the path of good intentions. And if guilt, fear, and every other negative feeling and emotion known to humankind had an agenda, that would be it—to prevent us from gaining a foothold into a healthier direction.

Miraculously, in the space of just that one instant of recognition, guilt evaporated and the void was filled by a powerful desire to exchange a negative attitude for a positive one by flooding the Universe with light and love rather than fear and negativity. If I do nothing more than that, I have done the most important job possible. And with that thought, I drifted off to sleep in a blissful state of gratitude, and awoke this morning inspired to write a blog.

It isn’t easy to keep one’s spirits up in the face of such dire world circumstances, is it? No wonder so many are in such a funk. If left unchecked, fear and negativity spreads like a virulent cancer and silently destroys any hope of peace on earth—or within oneself.

We do ourselves and others a serious disservice by succumbing to the temptation to fall into fear, or the belief that we are less than who and what we truly are. Our TRUE service comes from finding the love and light within ourselves and each other. One light shone upon another casts the awareness that we are One, and we are Divine.

We can do it. We can create peace on earth, but first we must find it within ourselves. All we need is a little willingness, a bit of awareness, and the desire to wake up. It’s a beautiful world when we see it right-side-up—and how we choose to see it is up to each one of us.

Please add your light to the war against darkness. We can change the world—one mind, one light at a time.

Peace and love to all. Sunny side up!

Speaking of doing more, I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t give at least one quick little mention of my book, Voices. It’s chock full of them—mine, yours, ours (we all seem to have many of the same ones, have you noticed?) Please pop in here and have a quick look . Thank you! Happy voices everyone.

Disorderly Conduct

Today as I wandered around in my disorderly computer files trying to clean out the messes that I have left behind myself over the years, I stumbled upon stuff that I wrote eons ago—stuff that never saw the light of day, stuff that just sits there awaiting some sort of acknowledgement, destination, or deletion. As I look back, these dusty little gems show me where I was then, and where I am now. Today’s discovery, written sometime prior to 2009 is a fine example of my escape from self-terrorism into the happy realm of loving my perfectly imperfect self. Here it is:

I think I am suffering from seasonal hair disorder. You know – the winter blah kind of thing that would make my hair look as if I stuck a finger in a light socket with the electricity turned on?

Not only that, but I have a sneaking suspicion that in an effort to seek good company, the hair disorder gremlins have sent out some clever little scouts that have obligingly returned with the discovery of a personality disorder to add to my list of seasonal dysfunctions.

The hair situation is only a temporary thing, thank goodness, but the personality disorder thing—well, sometimes I think it will never end. Just as I think I have one aspect of myself in order, another flares up to remind me of my imperfection. My current favorites are foot-in-mouth disease, and bad judgment.

On the growing number of occasions when I suffer flare-ups of one disorder or another, my first tendency is to immediately send myself into bouts of self-flagellation in an attempt to beat myself back into my own good graces. This is not a technique that I would recommend to anyone who is trying to make the return trip to sanity.

Once I discover the futility of self-flagellation, I move on to rationalization. “Well, it really wasn’t that bad, was it? I think he’s over reacting just a wee bit. Obviously she misunderstood what I said. If she had been paying closer attention, it wouldn’t have happened at all, right”

The next response to my faux pas is the questioning phase. Why in Heaven’s name did I say such a thing? It just squirted out of my mouth like Ketchup out of a bottle that’s been slapped on the bottom 57 times. I can’t believe I did such a thing. How could I have been so thoughtless?

Oh, my poor aching psyche!

Behavior is not who I am. Bad behavior, good behavior, not who I am. Sometimes I’m the good witch and sometimes I’m the bad witch. I’m the whole witch, both good and bad. Maybe when I learn to love and respect the entirety of myself, I can say goodbye to my disorders. Well, the personality one, at least. The hair disorder may be around for as long as there are winters in my life.

What troubles me about all of this disorder business is that it seems to be happening more frequently. It’s as if the message is becoming more and more urgent. GET IT TOGETHER GIRL! Maybe I’d better pay attention and listen up.

Maybe it’s all that unhealed anger that’s been roiling around inside of me. Maybe I’d better get busy and start tending to myself because if I don’t, those embarrassing foot-in-mouth moments will show up more and more often.

I actually know people who don’t suffer from any of these annoyances. They just don’t get it. “Stop beating up on yourself,” they say. Or, “You’re being a little hard on yourself, don’t you think?” I spoke to such a person over onion soup and a chicken wrap just yesterday. Apparently, some folks simply cannot relate to those of us who haven’t mastered Self-Love 101 yet.

Contrarily, I also know people just like me. The self-flagellation specialists who find any little excuse at all to tell themselves that they were wrong, said something stupid, or committed some unforgivable act. Maybe it’s because like attracts like, but it seems to me that there are a whole lot more of us than there are of them.

Frankly, I think that these guiltless wonders have their nerve. Just who do they think they are, anyway? How dare they just shrug their shoulders and walk away from their mistakes while the rest of us suffer the treachery of our own mind drama?

But you know what? I’ll give myself credit for having the courage to say out loud what so many of us suffer in silence. After all, who wants to admit to walking through life carrying a bag loaded full of personal flaws? It’s a crummy job, but I’ll do it, because by golly, if it gives just one other person hope and the courage to move beyond their self-perceived sins, then it’s all worth it.

Maybe I’ll try to be more like the guiltless ones.

Or, maybe just I’ll choose to be perfectly imperfect.

Or both.

Ah. Living happily within the realm of one’s own good graces is a glorious thing. I highly recommend it.

Something New is on the Way!

AVAILABLE ON NOVEMBER 11

VOICES: Who’s in Charge of the Committee in My Head?

Hello Lovely Friends and Peace Seeking Souls,

I can’t tell you how excited I am to introduce you to my new book, Voices: Who’s in Charge of the Committee in My Head? I’m excited because (a) I actually did it—and trust me—that’s a really big whoop for the likes of a procrastinator such as myself—and (b) because I can’t wait for you to read it and tell me what you think!

Before going further, I want to offer a little caveat. If you are one of those blessed people who sail through life feeling confident, successful, prosperous, peaceful, and over-the-moon happy about yourself and your life, then Voices might not be for you. On the other hand, if like me, you have ever experienced a struggle to get to your happy place and haven’t made it yet, Voices might give you a little boost. Or maybe even a big one.

The “me” to whom I refer is the one who has spent a healthy (or unhealthy) portion of life trying to escape that persistent voice that tries to con me into believing that I am seriously flawed in one way or another, and therefore undeserving of love, peace, joy, and contentment. Happy hides behind a curtain of self-doubt, low self-esteem, and the guilt-producing layers of the shoulda, coulda stuff that wants me to believe that I am totally uncapable and unlovable.

Sound at all familiar? If that describes you, read on!

In the interest of truth in advertising (couldn’t we all use a LOT more truth these days?) let me give you just a little preview of what VOICES is all about.

It’s me talking to—and about— myself a lot. It’s me sharing my innermost thoughts, baring my soul, and risking vulnerability by telling the truth about who I am (and sometimes that can be a little embarrassing). It’s me searching for the “real me” amidst the many voices that populate my head. VOICES is like a pizza with everything with whipped cream on top, whether it goes well together or not. It’s a combination platter of blog, personal journey, and memoir wrapped in a package of spirituality all tied up with a pretty bow. It offers a lighthearted, humorous romp through the days of my life as I waffle back and forth between love and fear, and between the shenanigans of an unruly ego and the powerful allure of a soul that begs for my attention.

I’m very excited about getting VOICES out of my head and into the hands and hearts of those who might benefit by it—those who struggle to find a way out of the dark night of this world (and maybe the soul) and into the light of a bright and beautiful, brand new day.

VOICES is the sort of book that can be read from cover to cover, or picked up at random for a quick pick-me-up read. For that reason, I recommend sharing it, but not lending it because you may not get it back. Instead, I hope that you will read it, tell your friends about it, and share by way of holiday gift giving to like-mind friends. And, I hope that you’ll visit voicesinmyheadbook.com and tell me what you think!

VOICES will be available through Amazon.com on NOVEMBER 11 in paperback and Kindle. To be added to my mailing list or to order copies, please visit my website. Oh, and don’t forget to say hello while you’re there! I’d love to hear from you.

Out of the dark and into the light,

Julia

Inching Toward Freedom

Are you a guilt producer? Wait—what? What’s your definition of a guilt producer? Well, the way I see it, there are two kinds of guilt. There’s the guilt that’s heaped on us by outside sources, like a mother, or kids, or maybe the church. Then there’s the inside guilt, the stuff that encompasses all of the self-perceived faults and flaws of the soul—all committed by an imperfect self who should-have, shouldn’t-have done, the self that finds fault over every tiny little oopsie and risks annihilation by self-judgment. Sometimes, guilt is buried so deep that we don’t even know that it’s there until we find our heads buried in a plate of spaghetti with meatballs.

I realize, of course, that small libraries could be filled to overflowing with volumes written on the subject of guilt, but in the interest of an 800-word-or-less blog, I’m opting for the Reader’s Digest version, aka, my own less-than perfect unprofessional interpretation of the subject. I learn by experience, and trust me, where guilt is concerned, I’ve produced a ton of that.

Personally, I have managed to become fairly immune to the outside stuff, but it’s the inside stuff that can still catch me off guard—the self-produced kind of should-have, could-have, did, or didn’t do sort of guilt. The origin of guilt is not important, except that guilt in any form or from any source produces the tendency toward self-punishment, the result of which varies according to individual tastes and preferences.

My particular form of punishment often appears as crippling self-doubt that typically results in procrastination and lowered feelings of self-worth. The sure-fire antidote to my self-induced suffering leads me down a well-worn path straight to the refrigerator. It used to be the wine bottle, but I gave that up a few years ago. Now it’s the spaghetti. Or worse.

Over time, my guilt production level has dropped from a ten to about a two or three. I’m not home free yet, but I’m making great progress. The key is to recognize the devil when I see it, and nip it in the bud before I beat a path to the fridge and dive into the ice cream, hot fudge, whipped cream and side of caramel sauce. It requires vigilance. Guilt is insidious. It sneaks up while you’re looking the other way. Beware.

It is here that I want to let you in on a little secret that I have recently discovered and am working to incorporate into my awareness and make a permanent part of my life. It’s the discovery of a lifetime. If I were out to make money by selling a product or service on my blog, I’d be selling like crazy here—you know—“This amazing discovery will change your life, this little secret is the key to happiness, it’s all you’ll ever need to know, blah, blah, blah.” You’ve heard it all. Nope I’m giving this one away for free, right here, right now. So here it is. Free. My gift to you. Ready? Hang on because here goes . . .

Be who you are. Be true to yourself. Whatever you choose to do is fine. You are perfect exactly as you are. Do whatever makes you happy. You are doing the best that you can right here, right now. Listen to your heart. Do not allow yourself to be swayed by the opinions of others. There is no need to change or do anything differently because you are already doing what you are meant to be doing. Every so-called mistake is an opportunity to learn a lesson and make a correction the next time. There is no need for guilt because there is nothing that you have done wrong. You are now and ever will be free.

I know—it’s pretty hard concept to swallow. It might even be a touch guilt-producing to think in such a way. Ludicrous. Hedonistic. Blasphemous.

Still—give it a try, if only for a minute, if that’s all you can manage. It’s such a new way of thinking that it’s going to require practice, but you’ll never know the freedom inherent within a guilt-free existence until you try it out for yourself. It might seem like an impossible dream, but like anything else, anything worth having is worth working toward. By the yard it’s hard, but by the inch it’s a cinch. Think of what it would be like to live in a world without guilt.

It’s a lofty and magnificent goal, a gift you give yourself, and to others in your life. You’ll never know until you try, and experience it for yourself—if only for a minute. By the inch, it’s a cinch.

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)

Plugging Up the Leaks

True-accountability-means-accepting-responsibility-3-208-768x644.jpg 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.

What Hides Beneath the Mask?

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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!

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.

Grace Under Pressure

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Writing yesterday’s blog was hard, like trying to pour caramel sauce over ice cream in an igloo. Today, I’m telling myself that it’s going to be easy. I’m going to just make up my mind that writing today will be a breeze, ideas will flow, words will pour forth and fill up the blank space of my computer screen like gently nuked caramel sauce on a warm summer’s day. Well, that’s what I’m telling myself. Whether it works or not is another story. I’ll just have to wait to see how long it takes me to get to the finish line today. It will be a test of how well telling myself what to do works. I can be pretty bossy sometimes, so maybe there’s hope.

Today has to be easy, because this morning I suddenly realized that in addition to writing Voices, the monthly newsletter that I publish monthly for my condo building is due tomorrow, and somewhere in between that, there’s a lengthy board meeting. Well, now there you go—a cause for panic if ever there was one. But no. I’m not giving in to panic. I’m going for grace under pressure.

I’m not sure yet what the theme of the day is, but it might be procrastination, or faith, or doing my best work under pressure, or perfection, or check all of the above. I’m experienced in all. I guess it’s a little like making my way through life—I’m not always sure where I’m going, but it’s a pretty darned good bet that if I have a set destination, I’ll get there eventually. Oh, there may be a few futile side trips along the way, but there is value in everything, even the wrong turns.

One thing I’ve learned along the way is that if something is hard, I might be headed in the wrong direction. If I set my feet upon a path that is not in my best interest and find obstacles at every turn, it may be a warning that I’m headed for disaster. I once observed as a friend launched into a dogged effort to fight the obstacles that were thrown in her way in her attempt to facilitate the purchase of a business for her husband. Her struggle was rewarded with a resounding failure. Had it been right, the road would have been smooth. We need to listen to the whispers.

Wow! I told myself it would be easy and apparently, I listened. I’ve passed the finish line with hours to spare, the hair on my head is still intact, and there is still coffee left in my mug. Maybe I’ve turned a corner—I hope so. Maybe it’s because I exchanged hard for easy, or because my new mission of spirit guide communication is working, even after only two days of practice. Whatever the reason, however it happened, I am truly grateful. May it be a harbinger of things yet to come. Grace under pressure. I’ll take all I can get. Grace, not pressure, thank you very much.