Ask and It Shall Be Answered

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Today is another one of those “Oh yikes—what have I done to myself?” days.

This newly hatched scheme to write and publish a daily blog tests my mettle on more levels that I can even begin to imagine.  Quite frankly, it scares the breath right out of me and yet somewhere along the line, I have a sense that I made an agreement long ago that this is something that I must do.

And do it I will.  Long ago I learned that forever is a very long time, and that by the yard it’s hard, but by the inch it’s a cinch.  I’m going to just skip the forever-is-hard part because it’s scary and instead, I’ll stick with the one-day-at-a-time inch by inch plan.  Though I creep along at turtle speed, each step moves me one inch closer to the goal.  Patience is golden.

Why?  Why do I do these things to myself?  I guess I must think that I have something left to learn, or that I need to give myself an upgraded opportunity to move off the dime and trend upward on the spiral of personal evolution.

Whatever the reason, I vacillate between love and fear—I love the excitement, the exhilaration of stretching myself and striving to live up to my own expectations, and yet simultaneously scare myself to pieces at the thought of failure and letting myself down again.  Is this a test?  I’ve heard it said that it’s always easier if you know in advance that it’s a test.

The truth is, I’m never happier than when I am writing.  A commitment to a daily writing routine, though a stretch, bolsters my sense of connection with my spiritual Self, primes the pump of creativity to allow for a continuous flow of content, strengthens my will and self-discipline, builds self-confidence, and I can’t wait to find out whatever other gifts lie in store as I dig deeper.  As for motive, another story for another day.  So many more days.

It’s a journey and an adventure.  I never know what’s coming.  Sometimes it can be a little nerve wracking.  But it helps me to remember a quote from The Voice in A Night Without TV: “Write your own story.  Tell your own truth.  Say it like it is in your world and do not concern yourself with how it is perceived.  Judgment is not your job.  Your job is simply to write.

Have faith and trust the wisdom of your heart for it will never let you down.  Though it may not always be clear in the moment, in time you will know.  Have patience.  Be still and know.

Note:  The beautiful image and meme above is courtesy of New Waves of Light (nwol.us).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Follow Your Heart Home

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This morning  I found myself asking why I have suddenly decided to renew a commitment to write a daily blog.  As I sort through the myriad of answers, I discover that yet again I experience some of the same-old, same-old hitches in my git-along that I thought (hoped) were long gone.  Guess not.  An intertwined mixture of altruistic and egotistic reasons drift by.  I don’t always like what I see, but if I can see it, I can change it.  Again.  Sigh.  I thought I already had.

This morning as I sat struggling with today’s blog and asking myself the eternal “why” question I pondered whether or not my efforts are worth it.  It was just about then that I received validation in the form of an email telling me that someone had just pushed the “follow” button on Voices in my Head.  Ah.  Maybe the effort is worth the effort after all.  In case you are wondering, Christian, that was you.  Thank you.

Part of my wondering process brought to mind another question—or maybe more of a concern.  Is a daily blog too much?  Does it clog up an already-clogged inbox and incite one to delete, delete, delete?  Egotistically, of course, I’d love it if everyone would read and hang on to every word I write.  Realistically, however, that ain’t never gonna happen and understandably so, because there is not a blog in the world that will appeal to everyone, most especially the type of which I write.

I speak to you from the heart because I know that beneath the skin, we are all one in spite of the appearance of our differences.  And yet in spite of our many varieties, inside we are part of the same family, brothers and sisters living together in the vast universe that we call home.  We need to take care of each other, and we need to take care of our home.

I guess that I just answered my own question.  Yes, it’s worth the effort because you all are my family and I love you.  I want the best for you.  I want you to love yourself as much as I love you.  Ah.  There’s the altruistic part.  That’s the part of myself that I love the most.

As you navigate your way through this strange and baffling time in which we live, I hope that you know that you are loved and supported by a myriad of people in the world who carry a torch to light your path and help you find your way through the dark to your true home.

Follow the light and it will lead you to boundless love and irrepressible joy.

Love and blessings to all!

Note:  The beautiful image and meme above are courtesy of New Waves of Light (nwol.us).

In Search of Truth

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My current favorite pandemic meme came straight from of jaws of Facebook and suggests that perhaps God is sending us all to our rooms to give us time to consider what we’ve done.

Oh my.  Well that could be a scary thought.

Oh?  And why is that?

Well, duh.  It could bring up all sorts of hidden stuff like guilt, and what I did wrong, and what I didn’t do that I should have, and what I did that I shouldn’t have.  You know stuff like that.

That is true.  And would that be such a bad thing?

Well it wouldn’t be very much of a comfort.  I mean, after all, who wants to see the parts and pieces of themselves that they’ve been hiding from for a lifetime?

Ah. Perhaps you speak of the ego, the personality, the “small” self of the individual that feels disconnected from the larger Self.  And speaking of disconnection, We sense that you have allowed yourself to drift off into the world of ego and are considering the impact of today’s writing upon the reader.

Oops.  You would be correct.

May we remind you that your task is to simply write?  There is no need for you to judge the words, nor how they may be perceived by those who read them.

Thank you.  But it is still a little tempting to get a bit squirrely about whether or not I’ll be considered nuts.

We understand.  And again, We remind you that what others think of you is irrelevant, for they will see you through the lens of their own perspective.  We know that remnants of self-doubt occasionally rise up and play a role in your actions, choices, and decisions, and clearly, We see that this is one such occasion.  We applaud the progress that you have made thus far in releasing this obstacle that occasionally stands in the way of your peace of mind, and for the courage it takes for your willingness to be transparent.  Under these circumstances it is natural then, that a sense of hesitancy still exists.

Again, you would be correct.  But I’ll get over it.  Today for the first time since the pandemic lock-down, there is a bit of structure to my day and I need to get on the move.  But I promised myself that I would blog every day, and today, this is it.  How do I feel about it?  I don’t know.  But I’ll push the publish button anyway, and let the chips fall where they may.  There are lessons to be learned in every situation, and I’m happy to learn mine, no matter now comfortable or uncomfortable they may be.

Thanks Pandemic for this opportunity to stop and consider what I have done.  Oh—and to love and forgive myself for whatever it is that I think I may have done wrong.

Happy Easter everyone.  May we rise up together into a glorious new beginning!

PS:  If you are dazed and confused by what you just read (if in fact you even made it this far), it may be because you missed the last one or two blogs.  Reading them will put this one in context.

Note:  The beautiful image and meme are courtesy of New Waves of Light (NWOL.us).

 

Listening to the Whispers

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Well it’s another day, I’m back, and for me that’s quite an accomplishment.  I seem to have a history of making these insanely impulsive promises to myself in moments of expanded consciousness only to welsh on myself soon thereafter.  It’s maddening, really.  And depressing.

Just yesterday, for example, I stuck my neck out and made a commitment to sit myself down every day and write a blog.  While I was at it I blared it out loud not just to myself but also to you, whoever you are, who is reading this self-confession right now.  It is no surprise then that today I awoke after a sleepless night of worrying about whether I’ll pull it off, or if I’ll have anything to say, or if I’ll welsh on myself yet again.  It prompts me to ask myself the question, “OMG—What have I done?”

Enter self-doubt.  What am I going to do?  What am I going to write?  How am I going to fill up the blank space of a white screen with anything worth saying or reading?  It transports me right back to that day decades ago when I asked myself the same questions and heard the words, “It doesn’t matter.  Just write.”  So I did.  And I loved doing it.  It was exhilarating.

Why did I stop?  That question boiled down to a one-word answer.  Fear.  Fear of what?  Success?  Failure?  Embarrassment?  Self-exposure?  Check all of the above?  Whatever it was, it stopped me dead in my tracks and the fruits of those many long hours of writing ended up in the jaws of the neighborhood trash truck.

Well that was then and this is now, and I’m happy to report that I’m a lot whole older and wiser than I was then and now I have reached a point in life where none of the old self-doubts matter much anymore.  Hallelujah!  Free at last!  What a feeling!

Somewhere between now and a rather sleepless night of worry about how I would manage to honor this impulsive, brash recommitment to daily writing and publishing, I felt an inner nudge of encouragement that said, “You can do it.  Just do it.”  Ahh—the gentle whisper of the Voice.

So here I am again, back at a keyboard facing a blank screen, but this time, I’m not the least bit concerned about what anyone might think.  Somewhere deep within I know that finally, finally, I am doing what I am supposed to be doing not just for myself, but also for anyone else who has ever struggled with some of the myriad of obstacles that stand in the way of their realization of joy and happiness.

It’s not just about writing.  It’s so much more than that.  It’s about the will and desire to move out from behind the shadow of the ego and into the light of Truth that lies within.  It is about planting seeds of hope and spreading inspiration and encouraging to my brothers and sisters in this world to have faith that in spite of appearances, everything is going to be all right.  Truly, it will.

That said, I bid farewell for today with a promise that I will be back again tomorrow and hope that I will see you then.  Before I go though, I must ask myself a question or two.

Did I get it right?  Is it perfect?  Does it need to be perfect?  Does it even matter?  No.  The only thing that really matters is that today I listened to the whispers of the Voice within and did what I am supposed to do.  What about you?  Are you listening for the whispers that have the answers to the questions of your heart?  Is there something that you can do for yourself today that will make you feel really good about yourself when you go to bed tonight?  If not today, then perhaps tomorrow?  

Till we meet again, I wish you many blessings of love and peace.

Note:  The beautiful image and meme above are courtesy of New Waves of Light (nwol.us).

A New Day is Dawning

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Today as I was scrambling around in my head trying to make sense out of the contents of my mind, it dawned on me that I am currently long on self-doubt and procrastination and short on purpose, perseverance, and action.  As a “shut-in” along with the rest of the world during this historic pandemic, there is not much to do now except to sit down and look within to see where I can make a few in-flight corrections.

As I sit and stare at my current state of mind, I am reminded of a time many years ago when, during a time of meditation, I was given a set of instructions.

“Make a commitment to write!”

“Write what?” I asked?  “Anything!” came the response.

Let the dialog begin!  Apparently, it is no accident that this blog is titled “Voices in my Head”.

After days of resistance and repeated cajoling from whoever or whatever that Voice is, I gave in and sat down in front of a keyboard and stared at a blank piece of paper and wrote anything.  Astes erwoi 9 hhta the cow jumped over the moon.

After many hours of cows and moons, there emerged a writing adventure called Conversations with Myself.  Conversations was a journal, a daily dialogue betwixt me, myself, and I, and the committee in my head that vied for power over who was to be in control.  It was often a fascinating dialogue.

The writing was intensely personal and self-revealing, written with the hope that perhaps the revelation of my personal journey and inner battle with myself could help, uplift, and inspire others who shared similar struggles to make their way easier.

Sometimes I would muster up the courage to show it to a trusted friend or two.  Always the response was encouraging and positive, but when I sent it out to one publisher it was rejected.  After that, I gave up and Conversations made its way into a carton that was buried deep within the recesses of a closet and my mind, along with any delusions of thinking that my various voices and mind wanderings would ever serve as a tool for helping others like myself.  Eventually it was sucked into the jaws of a passing trash truck and was lost and gone forever.  Fear became the winner in that fray.

Decades have passed since those days and yet sometimes I still do battle with myself over one thing or another.  Today it’s about not living up to my own potential.  There is not a soul alive on the planet who is not born with certain gifts and talents.  I know that I am a writer and I am not using that gift to the fullest extent possible.  So, today in the midst of this pandemic, my game plan is to dust off my writing skills and just do it.  No more hiding out in the closet for me!  If only one person gains benefit from the various voices in my head, then I can cross “live up to potential” off my list, at least in one small area of my life.

Today is a new day.  It is the perfect time to begin again with an updated purpose and refreshed commitment to resume Conversations.  From past experience I know that sometimes my commitments are strong and powerful and sometimes they’re a little shaky.  If I’m not back tomorrow, I’m going to need a few prayers.  All help gratefully accepted.

Meanwhile, I ask you to consider that the old will be gone forever, and invite you to let the promise of a New Age blossom in your heart and spark your imagination to create a vision of how you would like the world to be when this is all over.  Together we can make it so.

Please be well in heart, mind, body, and spirit.

With love from me and the cacophony of voices in my head, Julia

(Photo and meme courtesy of New Waves of Light (nwol.us).  Please feel free to share.

 

 

 

A Night Without TV

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So sometimes I have these little chats with myself.

“Self?” I may say.  “What in the heck do you think you’re doing?”

Fortunately, mySelf is usually quite patient with my silly questions, humors me, and encourages me to find my own answers by simply ignoring the question.  Well, at least I think that’s the plan.  Mostly, it leaves me to my own devices to figure out what the heck I’m talking about.

The latest round of self-talk was about the many creative avoidance techniques that I use to keep myself from having to face things that I’d rather not.  Maybe you know the drill.  Maybe you, too, have voices in your head that clamor to be heard, voices that you try to stifle but that just won’t go away.

Mostly for me, said voices refer to issues of spirituality and personal growth.  At the top of my current spiritual to-do list is, for example, is “Put Away Toys.”  That would mean any activity that distracts me from engaging with my True Self, as in TV and mindless iPad games wherein I tell myself that I’m improving my mental acuity and giving my brain free reign to roam around gathering  creative energy and a head of steam for something, though I know not what.

Unfortunately, television qualifies as a toy, so this no-TV edict is a whipdoozy.  It’s hard.  It’s a big ask, like the “Get a Dog” voice from twelve years ago that brought Charlie Chin Yoda into my life.  What will fill the ginormous void left by a blank TV screen?  Well ok, maybe I’ll give it a try—but I’m not making any promises.

The morning after my first TV-less night as I was whizzing down a country road at 60 mph, a sign on the side of the road grabbed my attention.  It said simply, “Celebrate your success.”  Well okay then.  I made it through one whole night without indulging in one of my favorite avoidance addictions.  Bully for me!

That was a over month ago.  Still, I struggle with the what-to-do-with-myself question that looms as TV hour rolls around every night.  It is like a night without a bottomless glass of wine.  My hope is that this emptiness too shall pass, as it did when I finally emptied my wine glass for the very last time and recovered from wineless nights.

So I say to myself, “Self,” I say?  What am I supposed to be doing with all of this blank-screen TV-less time on my hands?”

And my Self says to me, “Write your own story.  Tell your own truth.  Say it like it is in your world and do not concern yourself with how it is perceived.  Judgment is not your job.  Your job is simply to write.

Ah good old Self, good old Voice of Reason.  Always there with a ready answer when and if I’m willing to put away my toys and listen.

 

My Computer My Self

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Photo by Markus Spiske temporausch.com on Pexels.com

To the casual observer, one might call my minimalistic living environment pristine.  What lurks behind closed doors, however, tells a very different story—one that I sincerely hope does not reflect a mirror image of the content of my mind.

Whenever I am struck by inspiration and courage to bravely venture into a closet or peek into the innards of my computer to clean something out, I am struck dumb by what I face.  Be it old writing or old clothing, the fire of my determination fades quickly into a sad little heap of dying embers and is quickly replaced by an overwhelming sense of hopelessness at the prospect of trying to make sense out of anything.

The possibilities are endless and stretch the limits of my decision-making ability to infinity and beyond.  To publish or delete?  To save or not save?  To sell or give away?   Will I ever wear it again?  Have I worn it in a year?  Does it need altering or editing?  Will anyone want to read it?  Is it any good? Do I like it?  Would anyone else like it?  Is it worth anything? Does it make any sense? Does it have any holes in it?  Well, you get the gist . . .

In a recent fit of “Let’s get organized” I courageously dug into some files from yesteryear, and yet again, I collapsed into a fit of overwhelm at my total and complete, utter lack of organization.  Stuff is spread hither, thither, and yon with little, if any hope of ever being brought together in one miniscule space of coherence and/or organization. If ever I have a hope of getting my act together, I’ll need at least another dozen lifetimes or so.

But I do want to start somewhere (wherever that is) so I tiptoed into my computer closet and gingerly emerged with a piece of writing from 2007, and again am bombarded with the questions.   What should I do with it?  Delete? Publish?  Save for later?  Well, maybe that’s not the best option—it has already been saved for twelve years.  Maybe the decision is just about making a decision.

Well, over a decade later, I’ve finally settled on a solution (some of us are a little slow you know). The decision is—ta dah—pluck one thing at a time out of the closet, and do something with it.

Turn it into a blog. Compile it into a book. Whatever.  It doesn’t matter.  Just DO it.  Maybe someday it will start to make sense, but at least for now, one step forward–even if it’s wrong–is better than no step at all.  Just one little tidbit dragged out of the dark and into the light, lightens and brightens my world because that’s one less bit of clutter to deal with tomorrow.

So what’s it gonna be? Today it’s going to be a blog until maybe some day in the future I can figure out how to get organized enough to turn it into a book.  The first chapter might be all about clutter.  I’m an expert, after all.  Meanwhile, till I get my act together, it’s one day and one piece at a time.  Maybe tomorrow or the next day that bit from 2007 will see the light of day.  Wish it luck.  And me too.

Onward and upward!  Out of the dark and into the light!

 

 

 

The Surprise Sucker Punch

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Do you ever review your day just before going to sleep?  I do—and last night I had to face the music and ask myself, “Egad—what in the world was that?”

Yesterday was one of those head-pounding, heart-pumping, vein-popping nightmarish kind of days that nearly sent me over the edge of sanity into the brutal realization that I ain’t perfect yet.  Dagnabit.  When am I going to learn?

Here I thought that I finally had it all together (well, maybe just some of it) only to be shocked into the awareness that just like anyone else, I am not immune from the blast of anger that lurks just beneath the surface of my usual calm manner that is ready to flare up unexpectedly to pounce and punch—and Heaven help the person who happens to be innocently standing in the way when it does!

Unlike the nightmares of The Pink Panther (2/26) and Trashy Dreams (4/22), this was a daytime nightmare from which I have not yet awakened nor barely recovered.  Lessons, lessons, everywhere lessons.

In addition to owning the title of Queen of the Trash Room, I also seem to have acquired the honor of being dubbed Queen of the Movers, or chief-in-charge of the many comings and goings of the condo building where I live.  This one tops the list of the Make-Me-Crazy jobs on my list of Crazy-Things-To-Do.

Yesterday’s move was the pinnacle of the move-from-hell experiences.   The guys on the truck broke every condo rule in the book, resulting in multiple complaints from irate residents who had every right to be angry about the inconvenience created by the truck blocking the entrance/exit to the garage. They refused to move.  Period.  They simply refused to move.   Needless to say, I lost it and things went downhill from there.

My normal behavior would have been to slip into facilitator/mediator role, but I was so blinded by my own anger that I got caught up in the melee, unable to find my way clear.  Fortunately, I soon realized that I was part of the problem rather than part of the solution, and I backed off and apologized for my untowardly behavior toward the movers, but not before I gave myself a good tongue lashing for my behavior.  I felt ashamed of myself and embarrassed by my loss of control.  That sucker-punch caught me by surprise and rather than responding with kindness, I reacted to this little head-on collision with anger instead.

It’s times like these that I need to remember that I’m not broken and I don’t need to be “fixed,” but sometimes when in the midst of such a daytime nightmare, it sounds easier said than done.  Happily for me, I have a strong faith and belief in the power of love over fear, and that I need only remember that love is the best soft-serve antidote to all things conflicting.

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As my head hit the pillow last night, I felt my body struggling to recover from the nasty blast of stress that occurred as a result of the day’s fray.  Heart and head both pounded from physical, mental, and emotional strain and kept me awake and asking myself how I had gone so far over the edge so quickly.  What was the trigger that set me off?  I don’t have the answer to that yet, but at least my head is a little clearer in the light of day.  What did I learn from this unfortunate encounter?

  • It’s easier to catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.
  • Think before I speak.
  • I am not broken and I don’t need to be fixed.
  • Though I may lose it in the moment and never have an opportunity to heal a rift between myself and another, I can still practice the art of love, forgiveness, kindness, and compassion with both myself and those whom I may have harmed.
  • I can reaffirm my resolve to sit down each day with the friendly voices within myself for a refreshing dip in the fountain of awareness and enlightenment.
  • But here’s the kicker of what I really learned.  I learned how important it is to have a strong spiritual belief system.  I learned that yesterday, I had failed to have a little daily chat with my sane, loving unseen voices.  I saw how quickly a situation of minor proportions can quickly morph into a major incident such that those involved might be brought to use violence as a means as a so-called solution to the problem.  Or that a family disagreement can cause a major lifelong fracture that goes unhealed.
  • This incident also reminded me that any situation may be used by the powers that be to heal, bless, and heighten the awareness of those with eyes to see and the willingness to engage in the practice of doing whatever they need to do to add peace to their world and to the world in general.
  • Any experience—no matter how comfortable or uncomfortable, no matter how happy or unhappy—can be used as fodder for a blog.  So thanks for this experience of something to write about, my friends (I think!).

By the way—in case you may have forgotten, I’d just like to remind you (and myself) that we are absolutely perfect exactly the way we are.  Let’s face it—we’re all doing the best we can.  If we could do it any better, we would.  And one day when we’re ready, we will.  Meanwhile, I highly recommend that you simply sit back, relax and enjoy the journey.

Today I’ll thank the voices who are always there for me, I’ll remember that I’m not broken, that I don’t need to be fixed, that I can own and love my behavior and see it as a gift cleverly designed to move me along on my path to enlightenment like it or not (and sometimes I don’t, depending of the form the lesson).   I can see it as a growing experience rather than use it as a weapon against myself, and know that I am always loved and forgiven and I can always love and forgive myself and all others in my world.  And yes, even my enemies.  Well—not so easy sometimes, but I’m working on it!

I also learned that my blissful, joyful, state of euphoria can be quickly destroyed by unhealed anger.  So I’m making the choice for love and will keep my sights set on Nirvana.  It may take awhile, but I plan to stay on track till I make it!  Maybe I’ll see you there, huh?

Oh—as a final note (there always seems to be a final note, right?) I want to add that starting right now, today, this very minute, I have returned to “Thank You God” mode. All day every day, Thank You God Mode keeps me in a state of joyful bliss and out of trouble. Apparently I flunked Gratitude 101 yesterday.  I won’t make that mistake again today.  It’s too stressful!

Thank you,  thank you, thank you God for ALL blessings, both great and small.  And speaking of gratitude . . .

Oh–and here’s other final note.  (Do they never end?)  This blog was produced before I even had a chance to say thank you to all of you wonderful family, friends, and fellow bloggers for your lovely and positive comments about the last post, but hang tight.  I’ll get there soon!  Meanwhile, please know that I appreciate your kind thoughts!  🙂  To those who are following my blog, THANK YOU!

 

 

 

 

Where’s the Easy Button?

legs-window-car-dirt-road-51397.jpegWhen I was a kid my family used to accuse me of getting up earlier so that I could loaf longer. Back then I was insulted by their accusations, but now I see that they were dead right. If you want to get something done quickly and efficiently, ask a lazy person because they’ll always find a way to finish the job in a hurry so they can default back to lazy mode and loaf longer.

I was born the youngest in a family with three girls, one who claimed me as her very own personal adorable little baby doll. There was nothing that I was required to do for myself because she anticipated my every need and met each one before it appeared, haircuts included. I picked the perfect environment to nurture my lackawannado nature. My loving sister-mother exacerbated my slothful ways by playing right into my lazy little hands. Bless her heart.

I’m never overwhelmingly thrilled about staring at myself and my shortcomings eyeball to eyeball, but sometimes they just pop up out of nowhere and knock me off center by making me realize that I still have a lot of work to do on myself.   Rats. I want to get it over with fast so I can get out of here, whip through the pearly gates, find myself a comfy lazygirl where I can plop down, put the feet up, relax, push a few buttons, and have the world at my beck and call to fulfill my every need.

The lazy in me always wants it all to be easy.   I have probably been a queen in a past lifetime or two, living a peel-me-a-grape sort of existence, surrounded by servants and handmaidens scurrying around me like bees in a hive providing for my every need while I sat popping peeled grapes and bon bons into my greedy mouth.

Wouldn’t it be a fabulous life if we didn’t have to struggle? Wouldn’t it be great if we didn’t have to work ourselves stupid just to get by? Shouldn’t it all be easy? And fun? Now that would make life really worth living. But alas, such is not always the case.

Take blogging for example. Sometimes I sit down and just start writing and in the space of an hour or less a beginning, middle, and end have emerged onto paper and I can call myself finished. On other days it’s a real struggle with writing, rewriting, guessing, second-guessing, and—well you get the idea.

Yesterday was a slogging blogging sort of a day. No matter how many attempts I made to get it right, it always seemed to come out wrong.   I ended the day with yet another unfinished blog, frustrated and exhausted from the effort of trying to write through a weary mind and blurry eyes. I learned long ago that if I find obstacles hurled on my path every other step of the way that I’m going in the wrong direction. The harder I try to get where I want to go, the more mired in quicksand I become until finally I sink into an abyss of failure and quit fighting the good fight.  Going against gravity sends me reeling backwards every time. When will I learn to listen?

My friends refuse to believe me when they hear me call myself lazy. They point out my organizational skills and neat freak ways and tell me that there is no way that I am lazy. Well—maybe they are right. On the other hand, their perspective is vastly different from mine. They see only the outside, while I am on the inside looking out.

Perhaps after a lifetime of procrastination and claiming that I do my best work under pressure, I’ve come to my senses and realize that it’s easier to do it now rather than later, and that if I continue to stumble over obstacles strewn across the path to my end game, something is amiss. If I don’t slide gracefully into my destination I am on the wrong path.

What is classroom earth but an opportunity to give us free will to decide what we want, set out upon a journey toward our dreams, choose our path, watch our step, and make in-flight corrections when necessary?

Yep. I want it to be easy. If it isn’t, something is amiss. It behooves me to figure out what that is and fix it while I still have the chance. I’m on a mission to earn my right to that comfy lazygirl in the sky.  Oh but wait—I’ll probably be so busy doing whatever it is that folks do in up there that I won’t have time to sit down and enjoy it. Well, perhaps the joy is in the doing.  Or the journey.  Or maybe both.  If the bottom line of doing is joy, then I’ll take whatever I can get!

Hallelujah!  This blog showed up with a beginning and an end with a middle somewhere in between.  And it all happened before my second cup of coffee. I think I’ll quit while I’m ahead.  At least for today.

May all of your doings be filled with joy this day.

The Pink Panther

Whew. Thank goodness it was only a dream, but unlike others that fade off into the far distant recesses of the mind never to be heard from again, this one is indelibly etched in my head. The last thing I remember before waking was having the thought, “Oh my God! I hope this is only a dream!”

The details are fuzzy except for the intense feeling of being utterly captivated by the presence of an adorable, lovable, tiny little pink cat that showed its affection by way of a fuzzy pink body weaving and curling itself around my leg. Whoever heard of a pink cat—one that did the occasional morph into blue or white? Hmm. Chameleon cat. I should have known then and there that something was a little off. Beware of the bizarre.

Like a kid with her nose plastered against the glass of a pet store window, I simply had to take that precious, cuddly, creature home with me. With its delicate petite little body, I concluded that she must be a girl. No matter. I’ll just assume that she’s a she, and that her name is Pinky.

Once home, I watched in horror as Pinky quickly morphed from her sweet little critter into a vicious, terrifying predator with me in sight as her target. The first hint of trouble was when she lunged at me and tore the bow off my black strappy dress-up sandals while they were still on my feet. The next was when she sank her teeth into my derriere and refused to let go. Maybe she was jealous of my sexy sandals. Who knows? Why was I wearing dressy sexy shoes in my casual dream world, anyway, but hey—it’s a only dream, right?

Worse than the teeth sunk into my flesh was the underlying awareness that I had abandoned my dear sweet, gentle, loyal, loving, trustworthy, safe, obedient dog Charlie in favor of the sneaky, vicious, con-artist pink panther terrorist that had pulled a nasty bait-and-switch con job on me. What kind of awful person would ever do such a dreadful thing to a dearly beloved pet? I was heartbroken and horrified. Try as I might, I just couldn’t seem to find a way to unlock the jaws of the panther or get Charlie back. Somewhere between trying to clean up the blood from my nasty wound and regretting my actions about Charlie, I woke up to the realization that it was only a dream, thank goodness, and I breathed a great sigh of blessed relief to see Charlie lying peacefully next to me in his bed. It gives a whole new meaning to “Sorry, Charlie!”

Well okay then. That was yesterday and today is today and since then I’ve been wondering what in the world ever brought such a nightmare upon me. Was this a concoction courtesy of the great cosmic clown to provide me with writing material chock full of grist for the mill? Did the clown hold a mirror up to my face to show me aspects of myself that I’d prefer to keep hidden away? If so, good grief, I certainly got a face full of NOthat can’t be me! Is there a vicious ego named Pinky lurking somewhere in the deepest recesses of my being awaiting the first moment of weakness as an opportunity to lunge forth and attack?

Oh but wait—what about Charlie, the gentle, trustworthy loving companion, adorable in spite of his quirky little ways? Charlie, the abandoned? Charlie, the loyal friend of many years from whom I walked away lured by the seduction of a temptress with a cunning plan to con me into selling my soul to the devil?

Oh but wait another minute—where there’s a Pinky there is also a Charlie. Pinky the devil, Charlie the angel, both coexisting within the deep recesses of my soul. I get to choose. I can be a Pinky, or I can be a Charlie. Or I can bounce back and forth from one to the other like a ping pong ball moving at warp speed. I get to decide which one I wish to live with, which one I will take home and make my own. Sometimes I am a slow learner, but this one was pretty easy to figure out. The answer is obvious.

So here’s the thing, Pinky. I’ve got your number. I know who you are. Your name is ego and your game is fear. You think you can con me into believing that you’re my best friend, but in reality, you are my worst enemy. Oh, I might believe you for a minute or so, but eventually, I’ll wise up and figure you out. You’re very good at your act, but I’m not buying it. You should be on the stage—the first stage out of town. If it ever comes down to a battle for my soul, a battle between love and fear, trust me, Charlie and I will win because we fight on the side of love, and because we know that fear is only something that we make up in the nightmare of our minds. Love trumps fear and love always wins in the end.

One other thing occurred to me as I pondered my way through the day. Perhaps at the moment when I take my final breath and close my eyes for the last time, I will wake up on the other side, look back and realize that it was all only a dream. Or a nightmare, depending upon which side I have chosen to live. My days may be numbered, but the good news is—I can still make what’s left of them count on the side of good.

C’mon Charlie, you sweet precious little thing, you. Let’s go out together hand in paw and have ourselves a nice, peaceful little walk.  I won’t leave you again, I promise.  Ever.