The Activist Hat – Again

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After a lengthy discussion with a 50-something friend who is mightily concerned about the state of the world, I see that it’s time to don my activist hat again.  The depth of her fear about the future sent me into a depth of my own fear about the power of fear, and how much of it there in the world.  It was an eye opener, a reminder that the best I can do for the world right now is to keep my head on straight, not allow darkness to take over my life, and urge one and all to wake up and see the light.  On with the hat.

When I sit all smug and cozy with coffee in hand and feet up in my Lazygirl, it’s easy to believe that all is well in the world.  But what about everyone else?  What about the heartbreaking closed sign on the doors of my favorite Nordstrom where I worked when I was 50-something?  What about the folks who wonder how they will feed their families, or if their kids will be shot in their beds, or if they’ll be done in by a virus?

In yesterday’s conversation, my friend expressed her deep concern about the future of our economy and about what would happen after the election.   From her perspective, I could see that things indeed looked very dark, very depressing, and very bleak.  Seeing the depth of her fear was what sparked my own.  If her thinking is representative of a large majority of the population—and I think that it may be— we are in big trouble.

Our chat reminded me to remind myself and anyone else within reading distance or earshot that we must change our vision, we must change our minds, we must rearrange our thinking, we must change our focus, because if we don’t, the power of our own minds will indeed create the very thing that we fear the most.

To build a new and better world, we need to we shift our thinking away from the horrific “what if” possibilities of decay and destruction and adopt a new belief system, one that embodies everything that we want, and nothing that we don’t.   Yes, this is easier said than done, particularly when we face so much negativity on a daily basis, when we are forcefed nasty news by the media, and when it appears for all the world that there is no hope.  It heightens the need for us to work harder.

There is hope.  It lies within the heart and soul of each and every single one of us.  We each bear the responsibility for snatching our world away from the clutches of the evil dark forces of the powerful and greedy, and put the power back where it belongs—into our own hands.  But it requires all hands to do the job.

Yes, our world is in a miserable state of decay.  But it is a necessary part of the evolutionary process that will make space for us to recreate something better, a hospitable, sustainable environment.  It is all part of a Divinely orchestrated plan that is for our benefit.  Together, we can do it—and we need all hands, all hearts, all minds, all souls on deck.  A future built on fear is destined to collapse, but love will sustain us for eternity.  Build on love, not fear.

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).

Dissecting the Voices

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Today is a start-stop-stuck blog writing day, definitely not one of my more shining moments.  In truth, I’m making myself crazy.  It may have to do with my latest mission of trying to enhance my communication skills with spiritual guidance.  I’ve had lots of practice, but apparently there is still much to be learned, because messages are garbled.  Especially today.

My current assignment is to speak to my guides out loud.  I’m working on it, though I must admit, it’s a strange sort feeling, one that is a whole lot different from hiding out in my head speaking in whispers.  It feels weird, like emerging from a dark closet buck naked into the spotlight on the stage of an auditorium full of people.  Whoa.  It gives new meaning to coming out into the light.

The morning is marching on by while today’s blogs sits on stall.  A myriad of thoughts pass through my head—I want to quit now, why is this so hard, what am I supposed to be writing, why isn’t it easy, I want it to be easy, where is the clarity, why am I doing this, when can I stop?

Jumbled confusion reigns in my head and expresses itself in words on my screen.   It occurs to me that this muddle presents the perfect picture of what it’s like to try to sort through the myriad of voices that float around in my mind.  I have just spent the last hour presiding over a plethora of unproductive thoughts.  In desperation, I finally gave up and headed for the kitchen for some breakfast and a little clarity.  What is the matter with me, I ask myself.  Why can’t I sit down, focus, write, and finish something that I really, really want to finish?

That’s when it hit me.  I’ve just wasted an hour of precious time in ego mode allowing self-doubt to stop me in my tracks.  I’m too hard on myself.  When I’m too hard on myself, joy goes out the window.  When joy goes out the window, it takes inspiration with it.  Ah.  A bit of fresh air wafting in through the window of my soul, a bit of kitchen clarity to redirect my thinking back to sanity.

Well now, there you have it.  The stark contrast between the screaming voice of the ego and the gentle, small Voice of the Soul.

Is there a point here, and if so, did I get it across?  Maybe, maybe not.  Maybe it’s not for me to judge, but rather to allow myself the luxury of learning to place my faith and trust in the wisdom and gentle guidance that comes when I am willing to apply myself to the task of listening to a Voice that knows more than I do, that unfailingly has my best interest at heart.

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).

Shiny New Moments

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I ran away from home again today, off into the wilds of nature—well, as much nature as I can get given that my wilds are confined to a suburban neighborhood.  It’s like a marathon out there, with people filling up sidewalk space and spilling out into the street to pass one another.  Who can resist on such a gorgeous day?

Now I’m back home in the Lazygirl to continue pondering on the theme that I started thinking about before running off into the wild.   As sit surveying my space, I realize that everything I see around me are reminders of the past—a   framed watercolor painting of a bouquet that was present at my father’s funeral, a TV that I no longer turn on, a bookcase that was custom built for a specific space that holds a collection of memorabilia and books read long ago and since forgotten—all things that remind me of things that once were, that are no longer.  Everything has a history.  Everything has a past, including myself.

It makes me wonder—how much do I hang out in the past without even realizing it?  What is all of this stuff?  How did it come into my life?  What is its purpose?  Is it useful?  Does it bring happy memories, or sad?  Can I walk away from it and never look back?  What will it matter once I am gone?

If I were asked to write one thing for which I am grateful, my answer would be gratitude.  As I survey my past, I realize that I can pick and choose what is worth keeping, what is useful, what is not.  I can decide what adds beauty to my life, and what thoughts bring back memories of suffering.  I can cherry pick what I want to keep, and what needs to be tossed into the do-not-recycle bin.  I am grateful for choice.

I am grateful for every experience, every memory of my past for the value of the lessons that I learned.  I am grateful that those lessons taught me that I can decide what to keep and what to throw away.  I am grateful to understand that I can learn through joy rather than through pain and suffering.  I am grateful that I can savor the good, happy memories and not wallow in old hurts.

I am grateful that I can take a moment to run off into the wilds of my mind in search of the vein of gold that is the present, and for the imagination that allows me to live in the brand new, shining moment of now, moments that build one atop another to form the foundation of a new future built to my personal specifications, a world of goodness, truth, and beauty  and goodwill for all.  Oh, how glorious it will be.

Please join the growing number of visionaries who are working as one to build anew.  The more the better, the more the sooner, the more the merrier.  Hard hats not required.

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).

Sweet Memories and Mysteries

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It’s not always a good idea to rummage around in the past, but if done in search of sweet memories to savor rather than to excavate old buried wounds, one might find a world of riches buried within.

One of my sweet memories of the past floated to the surface this morning as I savored the memory of my days as a devotee of Siddha Yoga, when I was constantly intrigued by the profound effect that the mysterious teachings of the guru had upon me and upon my life.  Sometimes, the lessons were immediate and obvious; sometimes they so subtle that I barely noticed until months or years later, when I finally got it.

On one of my visits to the ashram, a course was being offered on selfless service.  When I tried to enroll, I was told that the course was not open to people over the age of 50.  What?  Why not??  Was it too late for the over-50 crowd?  If we hadn’t learned whatever we needed to know by now, were we hopeless?  But as often happens in the world of a guru, there was no answer to the why.  I left in a quandary and spent the entire following year hoping that the answer would float to the surface and solve the puzzle.  It didn’t.

On my next visit to the ashram a year later, a fellow devotee unexpectedly answered the question that I hadn’t asked.  People over 50 are supposed to focus less on selfless service and more in contemplation of their death.  Huh.  Now there’s a juicy rich subject worthy of another year’s worth of puzzlement if ever there was one, right?

I’ve been thinking about it ever since.

Odd though it may sound, answering this question has become my lifelong quest, the guidepost that lights my path toward the accomplishment of my goals, vision, and purpose.  My focus is on the endgame—to heal what needs healing, correct the errors of the past, have my affairs in order, and do my utmost to earn my diploma and graduate into the next higher realm of learning.  It keeps me sane and on track; it diverts my attention away from behaving in ways that are not in my best interest, and supports me in embracing the behavior that is.

I really miss hanging out with Gurumayi, but the truth is that her work with me is finished.  She sent me home to the sanctuary of own my heart and turned me over to the care and keeping of my Higher Self, my Soul, to All That Is, where my education will continue, and answers to the mysteries of life will be revealed in their own time.  I am blessed to be in the very good company of professors who are kind and compassionate, who make learning a joy.  Now if I will only listen…

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).

Kaphooey Days

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There are just some days when nothing works right, when anything that can go kaphooey goes kaphooey, and Murphy’s law rules the day.  This would be one of them.  I turned down a nice offer for a little outing with a friend this morning because I wanted to write today’s blog.  Once finished, I decided that sending it might not be a very good idea.  Don’t ask.  Oh well.  Maybe a blog in reserve for another day.  Meanwhile, here I am, blog stuck again.

A Zoom meeting with a friend this morning helped take my mind off of the aborted blog situation, and sort through the myriad of heart stopping computer glitches that make me crazy, stuff that I can’t figure out myself, that I learn then quickly forget, like why posts won’t post, why files won’t open, where files go when they disappear from view.  Stuff that make me scream, “Why God?  Why”?  Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you enjoy the play?

See what happens when I get blog stuck?  It isn’t always pretty.

Desperate times call for desperate measures so—struck dumb and speechless (for the moment, at least), I will resort to telling you about a sweet little book that a friend put in my hand yesterday.  It took about 20 minutes to read cover to cover, and I took delight in every single page of it.  The author touts it as being a book for anyone 8 to 80 and indeed he is right.  I wish that someone had read it to me when I was four, and every week until I was old enough to read for myself.

Charlie Mackesy’s display of creativity knocks me out on every level.  He dreamed it up, wrote it, illustrated it, and his handwriting fills the pages where Times Roman should be.  His super simple, yet profound message is cleverly delivered in a few simple words or less, and parrot just about everything that I ramble on about for paragraphs on end.  It’s the Reader’s Digest version of my entire lifetime, all wrapped up between the cover of a small book filled with pages written in his own hand.  Amazing.

If you want to skip reading my blog and go straight for the gold, just read the book.  The Boy, the Mole, the Fox, and the Horse.  Turns out, it’s a best seller.  Who knew?

Lessons to live by in a nutshell.  Maybe there should have been a squirrel in there too, to keep the cake-eating mole company.

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 Pink Panther

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Whew. Thank goodness it was only a nightmare.  The last thing I remember before waking was “Oh my God! I hope this is only a dream!”

I was utterly captivated by an irresistible tiny pink kitten that curled and wound herself around my legs begging to be taken home.  Whoever heard of a pink cat—one that occasionally changed colors into blue or white?  Hmm. Chameleon cat. I should have known that something was a little off.  Beware the bizarre.  Weirdness notwithstanding, I took her home and named her Pinky.

Once home, I watched in horror as she quickly morphed into a vicious, terrifying predator with me in sight as her target. She lunged at me and tore the bow off my black strappy dress-up sandals while they were still on my feet. Then 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 only dream, right?

Worse than the teeth sunk into my flesh was the sudden realization that I had abandoned my dear sweet, gentle, loyal, loving, trustworthy, safe, obedient dog Charlie in favor of a 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 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 the bed. It gives a whole new meaning to “Sorry, Charlie!”

I wonder what in the world ever brought such a nightmare upon me.  Did I need to have a mirror held up to my face to show me aspects of myself that I’d prefer not to see?  Is there a vicious ego named Pinky hiding out inside waiting for the first moment of weakness for an opportunity to 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 trick me into selling my soul to the devil

Well, watch out Pinky devil.  Here comes Charlie Angel to save me from your wily ways.  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.  If it ever comes down to a battle for my soul, 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.

Perhaps when I close my eyes for the final time, I will wake up, look back and realize that it was all only a dream. Or a nightmare, depending upon which side I have chosen to live.  Clearly, the choice between Pinky and Charlie, is a no brainer.

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

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).

 

 

Voices of Wisdom Within

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This morning while I was lying awake, I heard a male voice softly call my name.

It got my attention and I answered.  Yes?

No answer.   I was disappointed.  I wanted more.  I wanted a replay of the full-blown conversation that occurred years ago as I drifted between wakefulness and sleep.

I was a captivated participant in a profound conversation that was going on in my head between myself and an unseen male voice.  He was a wise teacher; I was a naïve student asking kindergarten-level questions.  Even in my naivety, I knew that I was privy to something very unique and very special.

I awoke with a sense of awe, feeling unconditionally loved by an unseen being who knew my name and cared enough about me to pay a personal visit and take me under his wing to teach me for a while.  Though I vividly remembered the event, I had no recollection of the words exchanged.  What stood out above all else was that this unseen being was patient, kind, understanding, gentle, and loving.  He never responded to my simple, childlike questions in a way that made me feel small, insignificant, or stupid.  I was treated with great respect and dignity in spite of my naivety.

Both the voice that softly called my name today, and the one who was my teacher so many years ago were clearly audible.  The “reality” of those voices lends credibility to the words, and makes me yearn to hear them more often, more clearly.  Maybe someday.

Meanwhile, I must rely on the unspoken words that come to me by way of impression rather than expression.  Clearly, I am still a student, still in a classroom where I must acquire the  ability to discern the differences between the many voices of the personality and the Truth within myself.  It is a trial and error process.  Sometimes I get it right.  Sometimes I don’t.  But always, I get to repeat the class until I ace the course.

This morning’s voice was a welcome reminder that we are blessed to have wise teachers as guides, Elder Brothers who have graduated before us and moved on to higher realms.  Perhaps it is such a one who called my name, ready to hand me another assignment.

Today I realize that today’s assignment is that I must remain calm and stay strong in the eye of storm and reach out and grab ahold of a hand that will help me stand steady amidst the turmoil.  As I reach out for help, I must also reach out to another, the one behind who struggles to keep up.

Who is this that calls me by name?  Perhaps it is the voice of God, or the Soul, or Spirit, or Jesus, or the Higher Self.  Whatever the name, when it calls, will I answer?  Will you?

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).

Woo Woo Camp Saves the Day

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It’s another race around the clock.  This weekend I am in a livestream woo woo workshop for the spiritually minded.  A friend calls it woo woo camp.  Like yesterday and the day before, I have three hours before it starts, and if I don’t push the publish button before it begins, I’m sunk.  Oh, the pressure!

As I sit here in my Lazygirl waiting for inspiration to strike, I wonder if today is going to be another struggle.  Then it dawns on me that struggle is a outcome of a dysfunctional belief system.  If I sit around wondering whether it’s going to be a struggle, it will be.  Struggle becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy by virtue of my faulty beliefs.

My blog-writing game plan is to push publish before 10 am daily, but I missed my deadline for the first time yesterday when I doubted my ability to do so before an early meeting.  I thought I couldn’t do it.  And I didn’t.   I flunked button-push.  Self-fulfilling prophecy.

Self-doubt strikes again.  Blast!

See?  Now that’s a perfect example of a faulty belief that hijacked my game plan and knocked me off track.  Bummer.  So off I go, back to the drawing board to reassess what went wrong.

Woo woo it may be, but this workshop reminds me about where I have gone awry and what in-flight corrections may be in order.  It has jogged my memory and given me some grist for the upgrade mill.  I ain’t done yet.  Drat.

So far, I have been reminded about the power of thought and the importance of paying attention to what is going on in my head, lest I manifest something in my world that I would rather not.  My belief in struggle, for example.

This brings up another question.  Am I placing my faith in my head, or in my heart?  Is it in the ego part of myself that thinks I am so smart that I can do it on my own?  Or is it in the hands of a higher authority that has my best interests at heart and stands ready to provide all that I need to grow, thrive, and be happy?

I am a self-acknowledged slow learner and it may take me a while to figure things out, but I get there eventually.  One thing I know for sure—when I think I am so smart that I can do stuff on my own, I invite myself to fall flat on my face.  But when I remember to turn the hard stuff over to my Higher Self, or Soul, or God, or whatever one might want to call it, struggle vanishes and the road rises up to meet me.

Today I chose to put my faith in my heart instead of my head.  The result?  I still have an hour and a half until woo woo camp begins.  Woo hoo!  Yay 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).

What’s in a Lifetime?

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It’s 7:35 a.m. and I’d like to push the publish button by 9:00 a.m. so I can start the day by attacking the stack of papers that grow in the night and taunt me in the morning.  Is anyone else experiencing a bout of laziness and/or procrastination during these days as shut-in’s, or is it just me?

If you’ve been following along for the past several days, you may have noticed a thread of self-doubt running through the pages.  Me too, and do you know what?  I’m sick of it.  Enough already.  It’s old news, it’s boring, and it’s time to move on to lighter and brighter things.

Okay, I’m struggling here.  Why isn’t this easy?  What am I doing wrong?  If this is an assignment and I’m willing to do it, why is it so hard?  You know me—I always want everything to be easy.  Easy suits my lazy nature.

The clock is ticking and I’m nowhere near completion.  Whoa.  Now there’s a profound statement if ever I heard one!  Will life run out before I’m finished?  It’s enough to poke me in the derriere with a hat pin and get me moving post haste.

Dear one, no one said that it would be easy.  Anything worth doing, being, or having is earned by virtue of the willingness to apply oneself to the task at hand.  For some that is easier than others, based upon the soul qualities that one chooses to work on at any given time.

Yes, well willingness is one thing.  Application is another.  In my case, I’m loaded with willingness, but I have the attention span of a gnat.

We beg to differ.  You may think that your attention is limited, but We would like you to review what you have accomplished during the course of your lifetime.  By keeping your eye upon the donut, as you like to say, you have marched steadily toward the achievement of your goals and desires, even though at times you may think otherwise.  Your evolutionary journey toward enlightenment is furthered by your willingness to accept this assignment.  We know that it is not easy, and it is not comfortable.  We have asked and you have answered, and for that We are grateful.  From your limited perspective it would appear that progress has been slow to the point of being imperceptible, but viewed from a distance We see you standing strong amidst the growing cadre of global lightworkers.  Hold the torch high to help light the path for others who struggle to find their way out of the dark.  This, indeed, is your assignment, and We thank you for your acceptance of it.

No, thank You, and you are welcome.  And thank You that it’s 8:42 and I think that I’m finished.  Well, at least for today.  A lifetime is another story.

 

My TV Myself

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Nestled comfortably in my cozy Lazygirl I stare at a blank TV screen, blacker than the highway to hell.  That’s an assumption, of course, since to the best of my knowledge, I have never actually traveled down the road to hell, though sometimes I wonder if I might not be headed in that direction.  Come to think of it, maybe I’m a current resident there now, but too dense to see it.  Hmmm . . .

In the midst of my reverie it dawns on me that quite possibly, I might just be sitting here staring at a picture of the workings of my mind.  Uh oh.  Blank.

With the touch of a button I have the power to bring it alive.  It is a world unto itself, rife with stories, news, fantasy, sports, profundity, stupidity, truth and fiction.  It is a magnificent bearer of both beauty and horror, and of love and hatred.

Within and behind that blank screen lies an entire world that is not real.  It entertains me and offers escape, distraction, and welcome relief from the gnawing fear of what is to become of us and of the world that we once knew and loved, a world that seems to deteriorate in bits and pieces day by day.  It magnifies that fear by spewing ugliness into our world with news and fake news or whatever else there is to tempt us into believing that our world has gone round the bend into raging, complete and utter, full-blown insanity.  Nuttydom, I call it.

Here is my mind mirrored back to me in sound bytes.  Here is my mind giving me the rich opportunity to decide what to watch – or not – the perfect mirror of the meanderings of my mind.

I stare for awhile at that blank screen in my head and realize that it’s up to me to decide.  I decide what I do with my mind.  I decide which channel I tune into, and I have the power to change what I wish to see in my mind’s eye at any given moment.  I can tune into what brings me a greater sense of peace and calm, and joy and happiness, or I can choose anxiety, anger, frustration, or powerlessness in the face of a world governed by leaders who put their personal interests ahead of those they supposedly serve.

But beware!  A choice for love isn’t easy.  It requires diligence, vigilance, determination, intention, and perseverance–just a few minor little attitude adjustments.  Without those, a love-chooser easily becomes prey to the tricky uncanny antics of an ego intent upon surviving it own annihilation in the face of love.  Wth any luck, perhaps the planet and its inhabitants will survive annihilation as well.

Maybe one day I’ll write about those crafty little ego antics, but for today, I’m going say goodbye to the blank screen and hello to the light.  Today, I focus on choosing love.