The Pitcher and the Pandemic

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This morning I shocked myself awake by catching an unexpected glimpse of myself in the mirror.  Good Lord I look like the wild woman of Borneo.  Thanks, pandemic.  That picture brought to mind an image of a swinging vine, and the memory of a failed bar with the same name that my inexperienced, entrepreneurial husband swore would make him rich, which then conjured up a picture of wild-woman me swinging on a vine high amidst the trees in the jungle.

In the space between flushing a toilet and walking away, I took myself on a no-cost tour of the jungles of Borneo and enjoyed a sky-high swinging vine excursion in the process.   Wow. What a trip—all in less than five seconds, and I never even had to leave home to enjoy it.  Isn’t the mind amazing?

I thought I knew where this morning’s writing adventure might be going, but then a funny thing happened.  While sitting peacefully in my Lazygirl minding my own business, the silence was shattered by the sound of a large ceramic pitcher crashing down from a bookshelf and smashing to smithereens on the hardwood floor.  Books that had been sitting in the same place for many months suddenly fell over of their own accord and that was the end of the pitcher.

This sudden unexpected turn of events leaves me in a bit of a quandary.  Where do I go from here?  So many options.  I could just forget it and return to my original writing thoughts.  Or I could shift gears and launch off on a tear about whodunit and why, or chalk it off as a freaky accident, or question the possibility of whether I might have just touched a nerve of a dearly departed ex-husband, or whether or not it’s feasible to even consider such possibilities.

It brings to mind the recollection of other strange happenings—a notebook fell from a top shelf twice, potholders monogrammed with my mother’s initials were mysteriously displaced from a hook while I was not at home, a small picture of the Charles Bridge in Prague purchased when my mother and I visited there fell over twice, pots and pans turned themselves around in a cupboard so that their handles faced backwards; is someone or something trying to tell me something?  Could it have been my mother telling me that she wanted me to move?  She didn’t like my neighborhood.  She didn’t think it was safe.  Nine years have passed since I moved, and there have not been any odd occurrences since.  Until today.

So what just happened?  I have no idea, but it certainly makes me wonder.  Am I missing something?  Is there some “reality” that I know nothing about?  It makes me think about life after life, and about how the life that I live while here on this earth might influence the life that I have after I take my last breath.  It makes me want to try harder to do the best that I can while I am still here so that I will be able to live in a safe neighborhood when it’s time to move on.  It reinforces my desire to get it right.

Why does anything happen?  Who knows?  But there is always a reason, if only just to stop us in our tracks for a minute and make us think.  The pitcher and the pandemic—the perfect duo specifically tailored to help me learn a thing or two.  Now all I have to do is figure out what.

I think I’ll go comb my hair, swing on a vine, and think about it 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).

Loving What I Hate

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Yesterday I spent a few hours hanging out in a dentist’s chair with a myriad of dental miscellanea and numerous fingers simultaneously stuffed into my mouth.  Whoopee.  When will lunch with friends be considered essential business, I wonder?

I have never been a big fan of dental visits, dating back to my early childhood when my poverty- stricken widowed mother dutifully took my sisters and me to a free dental clinic that was furnished with rows and rows of stark black dental chairs manned by budding dental students who poked and prodded and operated without benefit of Novocain.   It was terrifying.

Later when things improved, off I went to a dentist who flew his own plane and had a mistress.  I swear he poked around my mouth and created multitudes of man-made cavities to support his habits.  I don’t know how my mother and I ever survived those years, but I’m fairly certain that she provided at least the down payment for the plane, while my school principal questioned my excessive requests to be excused for dental appointments.  Had she known early on about his expensive indulgences, I’m sure she would have jumped chairs and moved on sooner.

Hundreds of hours and thousands of dollars later, I still have all of my teeth—well, sort of, I guess, if an implant, a bunch of crowns, and a permanent bridge count as my teeth.  I guess they do—I paid for them.

I have spent about a kazillion hours stressing out over the thought of an upcoming dental appointment.  Noooo!  Don’t make me go.  I don’t want to . . .  oh, the things that stick in our memory banks.  It makes me wonder—how much of my life is, or has been, influenced by memories of the past?

I’ve done my best to drop the pre-dental-appointment hand-wringing habit, but sometimes I still catch myself in the act of stressing out ahead of time.  Occasionally, I’ll even toss in a little resentment about how much it’s going to cost to sit in a dentist’s chair and endure a few hours of torture in the process.

Somewhere along the way though, sandwiched between the lines of past memory and present resentment, the light dawns and I realize that I am seeing amiss.  I am seeing fear and hate.  I could be seeing gratitude and love instead. A little transformation, please.

I am grateful that I still have teeth in my head to fix. I am grateful that I am able to pay to for necessary repairs.   I am grateful that the days of terrifying dental torture is a thing of the past.  I am grateful for the amazingly fabulous, wonderful technology that has brought dentistry into the present where I now live.  I am grateful for a staff of kind, caring and experienced people who look after my dental health.  I am grateful for every opportunity to let go of the past and transform fear into love.

Just to keep this in perspective, I offer one final note—and this one is the mother of all gratitude— I am especially grateful that my name is not George Washington and that I don’t have to live with wooden teeth.  Eeks.

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).

 

 

 

 

Learning Lessons in Real Time

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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.

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 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).

It’s All In How You See It

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It’s a brand new day on which to write another page of my life.  What will be written today, I wonder?  Who will show up on the page?  Will Julia be lighthearted and funny today?  Will she be serious and introspective?  Will she be a little self-deprecating, or slightly irreverent?  Or maybe check all of the above?  Always a mystery, always a surprise, ever an opportunity to sit back and watch as the daily script of my life plays itself out.

Today I am aware that there are multitudes of personalities crashing around inside clamoring for attention.  Me. ME.  No, ME!!  The committee in my head is busy at work jostling for position.  It’s a circus in here.  The jugglers and the clowns are duking it out for top billing and the jugglers are losing.  It’s hard to keep juggling while duking it out.

Last night, one of my dear friends called to share a few thoughts about Voices.  She loves me.  She thinks I’m wonderful.  She thinks that sometimes my writing fails to express the me that she sees, and that upsets her because she believes that I am showing the world a picture does not match her view of me.  She wants me to shine, to show the best of myself to the world, to show myself in a favorable light.  I’m fine being in it warts and all, if it helps anyone else.

Her comments sent me off on yet another inner quest in search of motive and purpose.  Why do I write?  Who am I writing for?  Am I afraid of vulnerability?  How do I feel about being judged, or misjudged?  How am I being perceived, or misperceived?  Does it matter to me?  Do I care what others think?  If so, why?

What a gift to have a friend who loves me enough to tell me what she really thinks.

Oh, but wait.  Have I interpreted her words correctly?  Did I get it right?  The only way I will get an accurate answer is to ask her.  My perception of her comments is strictly that: my perception.  Perhaps one or both of us might be wrong.  Sometimes the windows through which we view life might get a little foggy and benefit by a bit of Windex.

Here’s the bottom-line question to myself.  Will I let the perceived images and impressions of others stop me, from writing, or from telling my truth?   Will I let the perceptions and interpretations of others change the way I write?   Or the things I say about myself?  Or allow my vulnerabilities to tempt me to go into hiding?  No, I think not.

I had a little chat with myself about that, and conclude that whatever turns up on the page is okay with me.  And whatever anyone thinks is none of my business.  So, what is it today?  Is it lighthearted and funny?  Serious and introspective?   Or maybe a little self-deprecating, or slightly irreverent?  Or check all of the above?  What do you think?

Whatever it is, it didn’t quite turn out the way I expected, but that’s just part of the mystery.  Always a surprise, ever an opportunity to sit back and watch the daily script play itself out.  We are the writers, producers, directors, and actors of each new day.  We are the ones who make it up as we go, and we’re the ones who see it through the eyes of our own inner vision.  I don’t know about you, but my script has a happy ending.

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).

Dusting Off What Truly Matters

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I read that clothing sales are down and pajama sales are up.  Small wonder.  A life in the day of a pandemic—wait—what day is it today?   Time and waistlines are partners in expansion.

This week has brought me a case of lethargy complete with days that roll on by at both the crawl of a turtle and the speed of light.  Is that even possible?  I get up, arm myself with my coveted cup of coffee, park myself in my Lazygirl, and suck my thumb for a while until the caffeine kicks in.  I contemplate, meditate, then write the blog du jour and from there, it becomes a downhill slide.

All of my good intentions, my stabs at creating a life of balance between inner and outer work go cattywampus as I search for the eject button on the Lazygirl.  Huh. There doesn’t seem to be one.  Drat.  An unnerving pile of laundry grows in the night while layers of dust turn the dark hardwood floor the color of ash—evident mostly in the morning sun that shines its light on a dusty path as I make my way to the kitchen.  Handy for me I have a friend who loves her new vacuum cleaner so much that she runs around our condo building looking for floors to vacuum.  It’s a Teneco by the way.  Never heard of it, but if I didn’t have her to do it for me, I might have to buy one.

I know there’s a message in here somewhere.  I just need to find it.  Ummm—it might have to do with how I feel about myself as I laze away the days living like a slug.  Yep.  That’s it.  How do I feel about myself?  Not good.  It feels as if I’m letting myself down again by not doing the things that I know are good for me.  I’m not listening to the urging of the quiet voice within myself that encourages me to get up and get moving.  Life in the slug lane does not produce a feel-good sense of self.  It’s depressing and I don’t like depressing.  It’s enough to make me decide that it’s time to do something about my attitude.  But what?

Just get up and get moving.  Oh, really?  Is that all?  How you do that without energy, enthusiasm, or will?  What am I missing?  Hmmm.

Oops.  Maybe I’ve lost sight of what matters most.  Maybe I’ve forgotten to keep my eye upon the donut and slid headlong down into the emptiness of the hole.  Maybe I have lost sight of my meaning, purpose, goals, or flunked willingness.  As much as I want to clear away the dust and return to a cleaner, clearer better version of myself, there are just times when I need help.  Pay attention, Julia.  Ask for what you need.

Okay, God. I can’t do this myself.  I need some willingness please.  Like magic,  willingness appears and morphs into want to.  Instant presto—the fans are flamed and I’m back.  When that happens—watch out world—here I come.

Forgetfulness is a mistake that I seem to repeat, but as an earnest student in the university of life, I get to retake my classes until I learn what I must.  Since one of my goals is to graduate with honors, I’d better get busy and work for an A+ in Feel-Good 101.

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).

To Do or Not to Do

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Yesterday’s blog was all about setting priorities for post-pandemic life New Normal.  Then as if on cue, I received a You Tube video (see link below)  from my friend Pamela for the folks in her exercise for seniors class.  Perfect!  Just the incentive I needed to get up out of my Lazygirl and get moving.

Before diving in head first, of course, I had to see what I was in for, so I sat and watched for all of ten minutes before I had to turn it off due to sheer exhaustion.  How does she do that?  Where does she get all that energy?  The Jane Fonda of Seniors.

Well duh.  She does it because she does it.  Obviously, there was a point in her life where she simply decided to do it, so she did it.  She works out.  I watch.  The good news is that my ten-minute excursion into Exercise by Voyeurism sent me off on another round of self-exploration.

I’ve always been better at dropping bad habits than adopting good ones.   Clearly, I’m better at passive activity (is that an oxymoron?) like not smoking, not drinking, and not watching TV than I am at the stuff I have to do—the aggressive stuff, like changing my diet, exercising, meditating, building good habits.  I guess that my lazy nature simply prefers the not doing to the doing.

But in keeping with yesterday’s venture into creating a new game plan for post-pandemic life, a balance between doing and being was high on the list, right up there with exercise and time management.   Hmm.  I guess it’s no accident that Pamela’s video landed in my inbox when it did.

I am happy to say that today marks the one-month anniversary of my commitment to write and publish a daily blog.  One month!  That’s pretty doggoned miraculous for a reluctant doer like myself, I’d say.  Kudos to me.

As Pamela keeps on exercising, I keep on writing—at least for now.  Her dedication fuels mine.  It gives me the incentive to keep on keeping on and to do whatever I can to improve daily, not just writing, but my life in its entirety, even if requires getting out of my Lazygirl and shaking my booty.   Rats.  Oh wait—I can do it joyfully, or I can do it grudgingly.  Always my choice, right?

Today I’m going take a stab at exercising, even if I last less than five minutes.  Today, I added fuel to my writing fire by ordering a book by fellow blogger Jessica Davidson (Free Your Pen Website). Today, I will do my best to do whatever is before me to do.  As I persevere, I’ll get stronger and last longer by strengthening muscles, both physical and spiritual.  The more I do, the more I can do.

Today is the first day of the rest of my life and there’s a whole lot of doing and being yet to be done.  Today I will celebrate that I woke up this morning and that I have another day in which to do it.  Today, I will give thanks for it all.  Including the exercise.

PS:  Link to Pamela’s video:  https://youtu.be/MUBPOa6P8IQ

PPS:  To all of you beautiful life giving nurturers out there, Happy Mother’s Day, with love!

 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).

Are You in the Audience?

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If you ask me what I am grateful for today, I have a one word answer.  It’s you.

Yes, youYou who are taking the time to read these words, you who are consistent faithful readers, you who are fellow bloggers whom I’ve never met, you who are friends and family I know so well, you who write comments and push the Follow and Like buttons.  Yes.  It’s youyou who I think about every day with great gratitude in my heart for just being here, you who forgive my misuse of who and whom’s.

Writing is a solitary job.  It often feels as if I am sitting blindfolded on a dark stage playing to an unseen audience who sit in chairs wondering what to expect and why they came.  As I send work out into the blogosphere headed toward unknown destinations, it is impossible to know if anyone is out there reading.  Push the button, let the chips fall where they may, let the results be whatever they are.

Artists have an advantage over writers, because works of art require only a momentary glance to be appreciated, but for writers, it’s different.  Reading requires an investment of  time, energy, and effort.  For this reason, I am all the more grateful to you for your willingness to sit and read, rather than glance and walk away.

I can only guess at your motive for reading.  Perhaps it is because you are a loyal friend offering support and encouragement.  Or perhaps you are a fellow blogger in search of food to fuel the fire of your own inner passion.  Or perhaps you resonate with some of my life experiences because they are similar to your own.

Perhaps like me, you have a desire to transform your world and your life into something better, to join in consciousness to create a mighty force of love to move higher up the ladder toward a vision of yourself and of a new world.  Or perhaps you are drawn for a multiplicity of reasons obscure to your conscious mind.  Perhaps. Perhaps not. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

I love you guys.  I hope that you will drop by and say hi once in awhile by pressing the Follow or Like button or share your thoughts in the comments section.  Be forewarned—it can take a bit of determination and perseverance to comment on WordPress, but then, isn’t life just like that sometimes?

If you’re looking for a bottom line, here it is: you feed my soul.  Your presence fills up the black hole of space in an auditorium full of empty seats.  I truly, truly do appreciate you and I offer silent blessings when I know that you’ve stopped by for a read.

As a small girl once said to her amused audience when she accepted a grand award, “I thank you from my bottom to my top.”  Well said.

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).

The Soup of the Soul

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Sorry to say that my highly anticipated woo-woo workshop click turned out to be a disappointment.  Too bad I couldn’t fast forward and zoom through the frustrating parts about stuff I already know and scientific stuff that I don’t understand.  Sad to say, it just wasn’t my cup of tea.

As I sat wanting to curl up in a ball and suck my thumb for comfort, I asked myself why I was feeling so bored, restless, and resentful of the amount of time and money that had been extracted from my wallet and life on an event that seemed like such a waste.  Where is the benefit?

I don’t always enjoy asking myself these sorts of questions because sometimes I’m not crazy about the answers.  In this situation, I unearthed impatience, anger, and an ego sense that something must be wrong with me for not being happy about doing something that I’m not happy about doing.  If I continue thinking about it, I’m sure I’ll dig up more dirt later.  Meanwhile, maybe I’ll put that search on my to-do list and think about it tomorrow.  or the next day.

Oh, but wait.  Is this the benefit?  Did I get something that I didn’t sign up for?  Perhaps a side order of discernment, or an opportunity to stop and think about inflight corrections that I can make while sitting in isolation wondering what to do with myself?

One thing that did stick with me is that there is a multiplicity of teaching/learning happening on many levels in a woo-woo workshop—and for that matter, maybe also in the content of these blogs.  Different insights for different people, depending on a state of consciousness at any given moment in time.  I may have nodded off a little here and there, but on some level, I got what I went for, even though I don’t know what it is, exactly.

Meanwhile, I wonder how much of my life is spent engaged in activities that I feel are a waste of my time?  How much money do I spend on items and activities that do not feed my soul?  How often do I say yes when no is a better answer?  How often does impatience or anger cloud my vision of what’s beneath an appearance?  Why do I believe that something is “wrong” with me for feeling anger or impatience?

Finding joy in life is an inside job.  It comes from finding and honoring one’s own inner essence and living life according to the dictates of the soul rather than from the demands of the ego.  Maybe it’s realizing the perfection of one’s own self, warts and all.  I sat for two days in a state of boredom to remember that in the end, I am the source of my own happiness.

I get to pick and choose what I think, and how I feel about the experiences that pepper my life with rich opportunity to learn and grow and then decide what is truly important in the overall scheme of things.

Was there a benefit?  All over the place.  What did I gain?  A lot, with some grist for the mill for today’s blog tossed in for added measure.

For some reason, I’m reminded of story about the guy who asked a waiter the question, “What’s the soup du jour?” to which the waiter replied, “It’s soup.”  The daily soup of the soul offers a glorious mix of every divinely delicious ingredient available in the infinitely well supplied universal kitchen.  Dive in and enjoy!

By the way, I know there is one sweet follower who does not believe that she has a soul.  To you dear friend, thank you for being a faithful reader nonetheless.  I love you too.

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).

The Seeds of Learning are in the Mistakes

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The day didn’t get off to a very good start.  I was jolted awake by the realization that a 10 am meeting might wipe out my self-imposed blog deadline.  Enter self-doubt.  Then there were about two hours worth of a couple of dozen false starts—write, delete, repeat.  Enter frustration.  No matter how hard I tried to force the issue, nothing worked except that I was getting nowhere at warp speed.  Enter arrgh!

Creativity on demand doesn’t always work out well.  Where is the go-with-the-flow?

The answer hit me when I took a wander-around break to clear the cobwebs out of my head.  Experts may disagree, but in my mind, the term ego is interchangeable with personality.  It just helps me to clarify things a little when I get confused about what’s what.  Or maybe with who’s who.

What’s what is that my creativity was hijacked by my ego.  The crafty little devil wanted to be in charge (so what else is new?) and was doing battle with my Higher Self for control.  Once I manage to to return to my right mind, that doesn’t always bode well for the ego.

After my little sojourn to the kitchen and back, I got it.  In my panic and haste to beat the clock, I didn’t take the time to sit down and have a little confab with my Self.  Uh oh—flunked meditation again and that means trouble.  That’s always a mistake.

But here’s the good news—every mistake comes with a lesson attached.  Today’s lesson is, don’t do that again!  It’s never a good idea to go running off into the day without stopping to check in with in my Self first because I’ll be led astray by the tricky ego every time.  It’s always comforting to remember that every mistake moves me one step closer to a happy ending.

Perhaps the worst mistake of all would be to leap back into life full-steam ahead without using this precious at-home time to delve deep within and connect with the part of me that knows and remembers that I am a Soul, not an ego.  Life just works better when viewed from a higher perspective.

There will come a day when this little pandemic vacation getaway will come to an end and then it’s hi ho, hi ho—it’s back to life we go, and I wonder—who will I be and what will I have learned when I come out the other side?  What will any of us have learned?

For now, all I know for sure is that it’s hi-ho, hi ho it’s off to a meeting I go.

And tomorrow and the next day too.  We’ll see how that goes . . .

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).