The Wonder of a Little Nap

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Yesterday was a two-nap kind of day with a whole lot of nothing in between.  Some days are just like that, I’ve noticed, and I usually wind up judging the state of my mind by how I feel at the end of one.  Sometimes, a nap offers a welcome relief from the craziness, and sometimes it serves up a little depression cocktail with a dollop of guilt on top.  Yesterday was the latter.  Not my favorite kind of day.

It started out well enough with a pleasant walk and all and good intentions, but early on it began to deteriorate starting with the discovery that something was seriously amiss with my blog site.  Great.  Now I have to face a frustrating and lengthy online fix-it chat with a well-meaning faceless helper—you know what I mean, right?—like having to gird your loins to work your way up to a call with the cable or computer fix-it guy.

After an hour and a half of restating the answer to the same questions three or four different ways, the problem was finally resolved.  Whatever energy, brain power, and coherence I had started with was sucked down the drain along with the energy to write.  So much for the blog du jour.   (Note to fellow bloggers: we never did resolve the inoperative like button problem.)

So I wonder—what makes a two-nap day perfectly fine one day, and a depressing guilt trip the next?  Why was I happy yesterday but not today?  What is going on in my head that makes the difference?  And in case you might be wondering, no, I have never been diagnosed as bipolar.

After an extended night-long nap, I awoke with an aha.  The scientific study of quantum physics have proven that there is a connection between the animal, plant, mineral, and human kingdoms.  Everything has an impact on everything.  Bear with me here—I’m getting to it . . .

The theme of many of my blogs relates to the impact of our thoughts, not just upon ourselves, but also upon others.  If my thoughts ripple out and touch others, it is also true that in a reverse process, the thoughts of others ripple out and affect me.  In my effort to monitor my thought process on behalf of others, I forget that I am just as vulnerable to the fearful thoughts and energies of others as they are to my positivity.

What this says to me is that I need to buck up!  I need to gird my spiritual loins to protect myself against the negativity and fear unwittingly projected by others and do what I must in order to preserve a healthy state of mind and a positive world view.  If I am to maintain my own peace of mind and be of benefit and service to myself and others, I need to be more vigilant about keeping myself in proper working order.  I’m on it.  Please join me and the growing army of loving hearts and positive minds that march toward a world transformed into one governed by love rather than fear.

By the way, I might add that at my age, there should never be guilt associated with a nap.  I’ve earned every one of them.  Hmm.  Is it too early for the first one?  Well, maybe a little walk first . . .

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 Lone Rainbow

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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).

Fixing What Isn’t Broken

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There are some pretty powerful energies swirling around in the galaxy these days, have you noticed?  It feels to me as if we’re living in the middle of a tornado, with all that is known and familiar being torn asunder.  To call unsettling would be an understatement, wouldn’t you say?

Extreme energies shake us up and upend us from the outside in, and the inside out. They rattle our foundation; they make me realize that there is not a lot that I can do about a lot, but I can do a lot about a little.  I can’t fix the world, but I can fix my head.

Every so often while tripping blithely through my days, I am stopped in my tracks by the blinding light of a warning sign that flashes across my forehead and alerts me that there is a glitch in my operating system that needs immediate attention.  Ugh.  Really?  Again?

Apparently, the Universe and I have something in common.  We’re both trying to shake off the dross of old, worn out, destructive, counter-productive energies to make room for a shiny new existence.  There doesn’t appear to be much that I can do to fix what needs fixing on a global level—the dysfunctional government, racial injustice, a pandemic, self-serving politicians, melting ice caps, the national debt—you know—the big stuff.

The most I can do is take responsibility for myself and manage my own energies as best I can, and be vigilant about taking whatever steps are necessary to fix the stuff that needs fixing in my own world—mostly, my own head.  It’s not always fun, but it is always certainly worth it.

Oh but wait—maybe I’m adding energy to the problems of the world by thinking of it as broken.  Maybe we just need some reorganization, readjustment, some correction, reevaluation, some tender loving care.  Maybe we just need to see the world differently.  Well, I can do that.  While I’m at it, I give myself a little tender loving care too.

I always take comfort in the words of the horoscope writers who often remind us that it is necessary to tear down in order to rebuild.  On both global and personal levels, we are being torn asunder and shaken to our foundation.  But have faith!  The roller coaster ride will come to an end and we will emerge safely, wipe our brows with relief, and stare in wonder at our triumphant victory over fear.

We will make it through the turmoil of these times by turning within to find our safety, and trusting the presence of loving wisdom from unseen Wise Ones to make smooth our way to new beginnings.  If all else fails, we need only ask for help.

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).

Two Birds, One Feather

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This morning I found a box of Hot Tamales and a nine-inch feather at my front door, deposited perhaps by a big bird with a sweet tooth?  Or by a friend who knows that I have a fondness for Hot Tamales and finding feathers?

This unusual way to start a day sent me off on a Google search to remind myself about why I so am intrigued by finding bird feathers, whether during a walk or at my front door.  I’m not picky—I’ll take them wherever I can find them.  My search rewarded me with a fascinating article (http://www.nataliakuna.com/feather-signs–colour-meanings.html) that sent my imagination off into overload and gave me more featherly information that I ever dreamed possible.  No wonder I am feather intrigued.

If I am to believe what I read, feathers represent a sacred connection to God, the Creator, the Divine.  They are Spirit sending us signs and messages.  When they fall at our feet, angels are near; their connection to wings is a spiritual metaphor, representing a strong, celestial connection to Heavenly realms.

Feathers come in many colors, each significant.  Mine is brown, representing earth, grounding, stability, enduring home life, friendships, respect, and grounded balance between physical and spiritual.  Interesting—the last one is exactly what I’ve been working toward for the last week.  Perhaps my feather gift is an affirmation that I’m making progress.

The article suggests asking yourself a few questions when you find a feather.  What was your state of mind when you found it?  How were you feeling?  What were your first thoughts or impressions about it?  What might it be telling you?

Just as I was in a muddle over what to write about today, I received a text telling me that a little birdie left a message at my door.  The message gave me the answer, and tells me that Spirit knows exactly what I need and that God will always provide.  It tells me that I am, guided, watched over, cared for, protected, and loved.

I suppose that technically, since my Hot Tamale friend is the actual feather finder, she would be the primary beneficiary of the gifts as a result of her find.  On the other hand, I am a secondary beneficiary, having found the feather at my front door.  I marvel at the spiritual efficiency of it all.  Two birds with one feather.

Spirit works in wondrous ways.  The special delivery of Hot Tamales and a bird feather is just one way.  If we close our eyes and feel the wind beneath our wings, we will soar to the heights of awareness that assure us that behind the veil of “reality” there exists a realm of the miraculous, populated by Those who have our bests interests at heart.

God bless the messengers, the feathers and friends.

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).

Body by Design

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Here we go again, with the blank page and blinking cursor taunting me, coupled with a cacophony of voices clamoring for attention, “Me, ME, no, me!”  Everybody wants to get into the act.  Which “me” will it be today?   My muddled mind considers the possibilities.  It could be a long morning.  Hmmm.

The loudest voice today is the “me” that comes with a body attached—you know, the one that requires a lifetime of food, shelter, and clothing?

Have you ever thought about how much time, effort, energy, and work we must expend simply to maintain our physical selves?  A third of our lives?  Half?  More?  It boggles the mind.  I keep thinking about how clever God is to have set us up with this dense, physical contraption that we walk around in all day, the vehicle that transports us through a lifetime of providing for its varied myriad of needs.

Donald Trump sometimes blames a “rigged system” for whatever it is that happens to be displeasing him at the moment, and I wonder—are we living in a rigged system set up with bodies designed as textbooks to teach us what we need to learn?

I use my own life as an example, typical of so many others.  I begin my lessons by being born into a family populated with people who can try and test me on every level.  I live under the same roof, breathe the same air, and deal with the assorted personality quirks that come with the territory.  There I are stuck until I am well educated and mature enough to move out and move on.

In case I have not learned from family relationships, Part 2 of my learning thrusts me out into the next phase of my life into survival mode where I must work to earn a living to support my physical body to survive.  Rent, food, and shelter is expensive, even before adding in the rest of what’s needed for the living of life.  Eventually, I get married, start a family, and in the process, up the ante of relational challenges.

It seems to me that a very brilliant God has rigged the system to make sure that we will be given every opportunity to learn what we came for.  The good news is that it is rigged in our favor.  If we don’t get the lesson one way, we will get it another.

Our bodies serve as teachers, purveyors of endless possibility for physical and spiritual growth.  If we haven’t aced Relationship 101 in our family classroom, we are given another opportunity in the workplace, where once again, we are tried and tested by other characters on the stage of our life.

This all makes me wonder—once we leave these bodies, will we find ourselves walking around in an afterlife as etheric beings without need for food, shelter, and clothing?  Will we still have lessons to learn but without need for the care and maintenance of dense physical bodies?  Whoa.  What a concept.  No need for spending a huge percentage of existence walking around in survival mode.  To imagine the freedom is mind boggling.

The very idea of that much freedom makes me want to work harder to do whatever I must in order to earn my way into the next phase, whatever that might be.  It makes me ask myself what percentage of time and energy I spend on my spiritual growth compared to my physical survival.  It makes me want to work harder while I’m here.

Body by design.  What a clever plan.  What an amazing gift..  What a brilliant God.

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).

Just Call Me Scarlett

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This morning, I was inspired by a post about racism by a fellow blogger.  My intention was to make it the subject of today’s blog, but soon realized that without benefit of a good night’s sleep, I wouldn’t give it the justice that it deserves.

There’s always tomorrow, right Scarlett?  If I close eyes, poof, problem will go away.  What problem?  Is there a problem?

No, it won’t.  It just hides out for a century or two, and explodes in a fury when provoked.

Benjamin Franklin said, “Justice will not be served until those who are unaffected are as outraged as those who are.”

On the surface, I appear to be one of the unaffected ones, all snug and cozy in my white world of privilege, yet appearances deceive.  There is not a human on the planet who is not affected one way or another, because beneath the appearance of separation, we are all one.  When one suffers, we all suffer.

We have brought the past with us into the present, because we have carried our old attitudes of racial intolerance with us into today, yesterday’s future.  Here we are, living right here on Planet Earth, plantation Tara divided up into different rent districts, yet still enmeshed in our old ways nonetheless.  I feel as if part of me is living in Scarlett O’Hara’s skin, spoiled, white, rich, incognizant of the suffering around me.

Injustice, racism, hatred, and intolerance will not be welcome residents of the new fuure.

We need to open our eyes, wake up, and make a conscious decision to create a better way.  It really is up to us to decide what our future will be, because truly, our history is burning to the ground and there will be neither a past to return to, nor a roadmap to the future.  We’ll be living in a do-it-yourself society created by the imagining our own minds.    It will behoove us to pay close attention to what we are creating.  Just as there will be no return to normal, there will be no return to yesterday.

Like Scarlett, we don’t know what’s coming our way in the days ahead, but whatever it is, we can gird out loins, face the future with fierce determination, and swear that history will not repeat itself.  Our familiar foundation may burn to the ground, but once the embers cool, we will rebuild.  I am outraged.  Today, I am putting on my activist hat and marching forward to join the crusade to create to a new and better future.

Scarlett O’Hara’s personality embodies a mind-boggling array of qualities and characteristics.  She is strong, belligerent, self-centered, courageous, insecure, intelligent, self-serving, vain, resilient, strong willed, manipulative opportunistic, and is fueled by a fierce determination to thrive and survive.

I am going to give my activist self a name befitting all of the characteristics an activist should have.  If I were to create a list of those qualities, they would paint a portrait of Scarlett.  The lesson that she teaches is that we can learn to never give up. We can always find a way to survive because tomorrow is another day.

I have reached the boiling point of outrage.  For all her human flaws, Scarlett has what it takes to gird her loins, gather her resources and build anew.  She’ll never give up.  For all her human flaws and shortcomings, she has what it takes..  We all do.  Right on, girl.

Just call me Scarlett.

Oops—looks like I just wrote what I was going to put off until tomorrow.  Well, tomorrow is another day.

Thanks, Michelle.  Here

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).

Bare and Unbedazzled

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The world of appearances is crumbling.  The façade is falling away, leaving us bare, naked, and exposed to the truth that lies within.  Wow.  That’s a heavy way to start a day!  It wasn’t at all what I had in mind when I opened a new Word page, but there it is, born of its own accord.

I had more in mind continuing yesterday’s conversation about fingernails, both the bedazzled and unbedazzled variety such as my own.  I’m not sure how I swooped from crumbling facades to fingernails, but there you have it.  It happens.

Oh right.  It happens!

Yesterday, I kept being distracted by my fingernails.  They seemed to call my attention to themselves periodically, as if to say, “Hey—listen up you!  There is a lesson here for you.”

Really?  In fingernails?

Yes.  In fingernails.

Then a funny thing happened—suddenly Dolly Parton was in my face—it’s pretty hard to miss Dolly with her gigantic presence of sequins and personality sparkling all over the place.  Suddenly yesterday’s blog (Here) turned into a comparison between the worlds and lives of Dolly and the Dalai Lama—amazing teachers, each in their own way.

So anyway, what about the fingernails?

Oh, right.

My nails have not seen an unpolished day since I was in my early teens.  They have been through generations of incarnations, from healthy and strong, to discolored and fragile, to beautiful to embarrassing, and as they changed throughout the decades, like the rest of my body, they have required more and more care and cover-up.

Then I discovered the miracle of a gel manicure, the antidote to the broken, the damaged,  split, snagged, the ragged.  “Oh but wait,” I was warned by others.  “They’ll ruin your nails.”  Too late.  There will likely never be a day in my life when my nails will see the light of day.

Hello pandemic, bye bye fingernail façade.

Since gel requires the equivalent of a lightweight jack hammer to be removed, there was nothing to do but watch my nails grow out a silly millimeter daily, and pray that the governor would lift the ban on nail salons before I was totally exposed.  No such luck.

Two months of silly millimeters later, I took matters into my hands and unearthed the jackhammer.  Look out, gel—here I come.

Surprise, surprise.  My nails and I made liars out of the naysayers with their dire warnings of nail death by gel.  When the façade was finally gone and the nails were laid bare, they were restored to their original, teenaged natural beauty.  Renewed, regenerated, resurrected, reborn.  Well, almost—they are a tiny bit wrinkled, but still . . . strong, healthy nonetheless.  Imagine that.

During these weeks of pandemic nail-induced anxiety, I recognized that my focus on the state of my nails is a distraction, a reflection of so many other areas of my life.  How much of what I see is focused on external distractions?  Can I see beyond the tempting lure of her Dollyness into the heart and soul of His Dalainess?  Can I realize the beauty that lies within the soul of each and every one of us, regardless of appearance?  Can I see it within myself?

The pandemic has laid us bare by shining its light so that we may see.  The old is crumbling.  The new is being reborn.  Though the appearance of it may be terrifying, the result will be the healing rebirth of a strong, healthy, beautiful new humanity.  We are a work in progress, each in our own way.  Our job is to see past the damaged and broken and look into the face of a new vision born of our own creation, and watch as it unfolds before our eyes.  Regardless of appearance, it’s all good.

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).

Go with the Flow

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Uh oh—it’s 9:00 a.m. and I haven’t even started today’s blog.  In a perfect world, the publish button would have been pushed by now, but hey—who said anything about a perfect world?

I’ve been fishing around hoping to catch a little inspiration, but sometimes those fish just aren’t interested in offering themselves up as food.  Sometimes inspiration strikes as I read the posts of other bloggers and sometimes, I just get lost in their insights, awareness, and stories.  Today was one of those days.  Their inspiration inspires me.

The Inside Scoop, a newsletter that I write for my condo building, is due today—well, maybe it’s more of a half-blog-half news sort of a thing.  That means that today is a two-publication day.  Double the pressure, double the fun.   There is not much juicy stuff to fill a two-page newsletter during a pandemic, so sometimes I have to fish for inspiration for content for that as well.   Once in a while, the thing becomes a cross between a make-it-up-as-I-go venture, and a rambling stream of consciousness thing.  The folks seem to enjoy it though—at least they haven’t fired me yet.  Maybe that’s because there’s no one else willing to do the job for free.

Inspiration is an elusive sort of thing.  Sometimes it just presents itself as a welcome gift, sometimes it doesn’t.  Why is that, I wonder?  Oh, I know it’s in there somewhere, but why is it that on some days it is easily accessible, and other days not?  Have I become so stuck in a rigid writing routine that I’m afraid that relaxation will knock me off balance and out of control?  Am I in even in control in the first place?   As for the balance question—well, maybe it’s best just not to go there.

I used to gather inspiration from a simple walk in the neighborhood.  An encounter with a squirrel could elicit a range of emotion starting with pure joy and happiness then morph into rage and anger in the space of twenty seconds.  Finding a wasp walking around inside my purse could bring about both fear and relief in less than fifteen.  A blister on my heel, a piece of chewing gum stuck on the side of my shoe—who gets gum stuck on the side of a shoe?  Inspiration in unlikely places, all grist for the mill, all an opportunity to take tiny little nuggets of life and seek to find within them something amusing and/or meaningful.

Those musings of many years ago eventually morphed into a book that became the birthday gift dedicated and presented to my mother in honor of her 100th birthday.  It was a joyous moment for her, and for me.  But that’s another story in itself.

Maybe I need to get out more.  Maybe the pandemic has left me bereft of the external stimulation that I need to get the creative juices flowing.  As I sit tapping my fingers on the arm of my chair in both anticipation and anticipation, the light dawns.  There’s nothing external about it.  It’s an inside job.  Like the Scoop, I can go with the flow and make it up as we go.

There is nothing that I need that I do not already have.  It is all hiding within the recesses of my very own being, waiting to be discovered, waiting to be released out into the world.  The keys to unlocking the door are faith and gratitude, but those are subjects for another time.  Until then, may your day be inspired, may you have faith to know that all of your needs are met, and may your heart be filled with gratitude for that you have and for that which is yet to be.

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 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).