The Waiting Room

Déjá-vu.  If you’re curious about who you are, try waiting for a while.

There are nearly three hours to wile away at the dealership where my car is being serviced. I don’t mind. It’s what I do best—sitting, waiting . . . 

There are six of us in the room: two are on computers, two are on phones, and one is punching keys on an iPad. My computer is on my lap as I decide what to do next. iPad guy is wagging his head back and forth in what I can only assume is a response to the bad news that he is reading. The computer people are plugged up with ear buds. Intermittently, they drag out their iPhones for a quick look and poke away at keys. The room is completely devoid of eye contact.

Good grief. Where have we all gone? Off into a world of cyberspace as far away as we can get from one another. The cyber scene in front of me prompted me to put away my toys and opt for reading a book instead, Finding My Father’s Faithby a favorite blogger, Wynne Leon. A real, live, honest-to-God book with a cover and paper pages to turn. Another talented author, artist and blogger friend, Nancy Wait, makes the most of her name as she wiles away time spent on the subway by sketching marvelous images of sleepers dozing peacefully as she whips through the dark underbelly of New York City.

I sit and cool my jets while hanging out in a room full of noncommunicative people quietly absorbed in their various versions of electronics. Years ago in my Honda waiting room before electronics hijacked the world’s attention, quite a different story played itself out. Folks hid away in their  inner worlds reading newspapers or books or like me, sat quietly with eyes closed. My closed-eye peace was interrupted on one waiting-room day when a mom asked her small daughter if she’d like to watch TV. No matter that the kid was peacefully absorbed in reading her own book. Drat. So much for enjoying a moment of quiet stillness. 

The TV didn’t work. Thank goodness. From nowhere, the quiet readers sprang forth to assist, while I experienced an instant sense of resentment over the soon-to-be interruption. I consoled myself with the idea that this sweet little girl would probably enjoy something quiet, soothing—but no. Instead, she opted for a loud, violent scenario in which a building suddenly morphed into a ginormous unbelievably noisy and threatening robot intent upon destroying anything in its path. So much for assumptions. So much for reverie. So much for my wishes and my desires. Did anyone ask how I felt about this sudden shift in the disturbance of my reality? No. Did they care? No. Did I? Definitely!

As I sit in today’s Hyundai waiting room and wonder why I am writing this blog the answer creeps into awareness. It reminds me that life is like a waiting room—full of people who are strangers to us, each lost within his/her own head, each separated from one another by virtue of what goes on in the world of personal thought. It is easy to feel helpless in the face of situations that we cannot control, and frustrated by the decisions made by others without our permission—decisions that have a personal impact upon us. So often we are at the mercy of those around us in a desired world just beyond our reach.  

My personal waiting room is a wonderful place to see an infinite variety of souls and scenarios—some to my liking, some not. What a wonderful place to just sit and observe the contents of my world reflected back to me inside of my head. What a perfect opportunity to look into the crumpled fragments of my own inner workings and take care of the pieces that need a bit of smoothing out. 

Thank goodness for the kindhearted souls among us who rush in to be helpful—even if their help is not necessarily needed, wanted or welcomed by all. They provide me with a rich opportunity to look at attitudes and feelings that spring forth as a result of their good intentions. I may not be able to control the acts of others, but I can control my attitude. I can  decide whether I would prefer to react in anger or to respond with love and forgiveness. I can choose acceptance and peace of mind, or I can choose judgment and resentment.

Who am I? I am who I choose to be. 

Déjá-vu indeed. I’ve been in this waiting room for a very long time, and I think that it might be a very long time before I get back into my car and drive off into the sunset. I choose to be ready. While I wait, I want to do everything I can to graduate to the place where waiting rooms are nonexistent, and nothing exists but the unspeakably beautiful glory of what awaits us on the other side of the veil. Now that’s something worth waiting for!

As a final note, I’m happy to proclaim that this blog was started in the waiting room yesterday, finished in the Lazygirl today, and escaped the risk of being lost in the dumpster tomorrow (here). There’s hope for me yet. There’s hope for everything, friends. Keep the faith—and add your light to the vision of a waiting room filled with love, peace, joy, truth, beauty. Don’t forget to factor in the eye contact that allows us to truly see and appreciate another—and behold the best in all.

A Clean Sweep

Every now and then I take a deep dive into my dumpster—my Save and Review file into which I park my half-started unfinished blog attempts. Alas, there are many. This morning’s dive yielded the following (of which I had no memory) written in March 2020:

I have a vision – 

Light has overtaken the darkness, shining its brilliance into every dirty corner, every filthy crevice of the universe, revealing all of the nastiness that has been hidden deep in the underbelly of humanity for so many eons.

A great Universal vacuum seeks to suck up each and every speck of debris that stands as an obstacle to world peace and sweeps it off into a vast, secure and safe space where it is recycled, purified, and transformed into a substance that can be distributed back into the universe and used for the benefit of the earth and all of its kingdoms. 

That substance is love.

I wonder what else I’ve forgotten? Maybe I don’t want to know. 

Perhaps I stumbled onto this forgotten piece to remind myself of the importance of looking to the light, not the dark and to remember that energy follows thought and faithfully manifests what is uppermost in my mind. 

In the face of so much unhappy news in the world, now more than ever it is crucial to focus on what we wish to manifest rather than what we don’t—on what we can do to help ourselves survive the crises of these times and safely cross the bridge of transformation that will take us into a new and improved world.

Light not dark.

Love not fear.

Kindness and forgiveness, not judgment or condemnation.

Self-love, not self criticism.

When I remember, I stop and think about what I think. What’s going on in my head? What thoughts am I sending out into the world? Am I adding to the light? Or am I adding to the dark by allowing fear to clog up my brain? Like a loving parent, I need to monitor myself and the thoughts that I allow to dominate, and take corrective measures when I step out of line. 

So now—am I going to send this half-started, unfinished blog back into the black hole of the dumpster, or am I going to take the bull by the horns and say, “Oh the heck with it—the message is more important than the need for perfection, so just bite the bullet and push the publish button.”?

I vote for message over perfection. And here’s an added side benefit: one more unfinished blog escapes from the hidden recesses of the dumpster and makes into the light of day. Hi ho, hi ho, it’s into the light we go.

We are such beautiful souls—and yes, we are souls. We are sparks of the Divine. We create. We manifest. We have the power to craft the world we wish to live in—and the sooner the better. Think light my friends. Think love. 

Note to Self: Thanks for the reminder. Always appreciated! 

Note to Reader: I feed my soul by reading bits and pieces from A Tree of Light website. If your soul is hungry, you may like to taste a tidbit click here.

Baring my Soul

It feels a bit risky to make an out-loud bold profession of faith to the world at large about my personal beliefs, but I am going to take my heart in my hands and do it anyway. My proclamation should come as no great surprise to my very dear and loving ministerial family members and Christian friends who, I imagine, are already skeptical of my nontraditional spiritual proclivities. I also suspect that their suspicions may lead to prayers for the salvation of my soul. 

We all have our inner truth. Mine does not fall within the mainstream mindset of traditional religion. In my own mind (and perhaps in the minds of those who know and love me), I am a questionable Christian at best, and quite honestly, that’s probably sugar coating it. The truth is, that though raised a Protestant, I’m not sure that I can call myself a Christian at all, but I suppose that would likely depend upon one’s definition of Christian.

I confess that when I saw the above image of the Lord of my Heart standing in the clouds with His arms outstretched waiting to embrace me into the warmth of His love, I felt that I was being welcomed home. I want to sit forever at the feet of the Master and inhale his love, compassion, and wisdom. That’s the only thing in the world (or out of the world) that is truly worth wanting.

Now I ask you—does this mean that I am a Christian? Does it mean that I am not? Does it really matter?

What matters to me the most is that we—you, me, humanity—discover for ourselves the spark of divinity that dwells within our hearts. In my eyes, each one of us is a piece of creation that is the soul, and that one soul erases any sense of separation that divides us by the belief that we anything less than That.

In his blog Think2wice, R. Arthur Russell writes in his article, With:

“As this relates to billions of persons who are struggling to get along with one another, while living their apparently separate lives, the solution is deceptively simple: We must realize our Oneness. Who, realizing That which we truly are, would be prideful? Who, realizing That which we truly are, would be unwilling to forgive? . . .   We must clearly know—not just believe—that all persons of various colours, creeds, and nationalities are but apparent variations of the One. Thus, when we look at one another, we see our spiritual brother and sister.”

Does it really matter if we find the spark of divinity between the pages of a written text, or within the walls of a building, or within the heart? It matters only that we find it—not where. In my nontraditional understanding, Jesus the Christ dwells wherever we are.

I believe that He lives within the heart of every one of us who seeks to find Him, and that He patiently waits for us to discover that truth within ourselves. I believe that the sooner we—you, me, humanity—recognize that magnificent truth, the sooner we will be released from the hellish life that we are now living, and be set free to roam around in Paradise and live happily ever after.

If you haven’t already, please consider the wee possibility that maybe, just maybe each one of us does not just have a soul: we are a soul—yes, even the ones who bug us the most! Science has proven that we are energy, we are consciousness, we are connected. If we recognize and identify ourselves as souls rather than personalities, we will connect our one piece of the puzzle with the One Great Soul of which we are all a part.  

Once we manage that, we’re home free. We’ll slide gracefully from one world into the next with our eyes wide open, and be dazzled by the beauty, harmony, and love that will be our new home—a home we might call heaven. It all begins within our own heart.

Though my knowledge of theology and science is about equal to my skill as a techie, in my limited world of understanding, Christ comes bearing many names. In my world, his name is Love. I doubt that He cares very much about what we call Him—just that we call.

If we build it, He will come. When our hearts are constructed of love, we will experience a collective move out of hell into heaven. I’m ready! Are you?

PS: If you haven’t already, you may like to enjoy the comforting shelter of A Tree of Light website: atreeoflight.org. It truly is reassuring.

Oh—and please check out Voices: Who’s in Charge of the Committee in my Head? (Now available on Amazon and numerous other sites noted on Google).

 

A Whole New World

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I know this message is a bit of a divergence from my usual blog banter, but I just can’t help myself because I’m excited about an amazing website that has really helped me to weather the storm of trauma that is cluttering up the world stage today. For some reason I feel compelled to share it because it feels so absolutely, unbelievably, extremely important and timely that I cannot ignore the inner call to just do it. Perhaps you’ll think I’ve slipped off the deep end, but the truth is that the information that I am sharing is what has kept me from doing just that. It has kept me sane in the midst of insane world. I share it with the hope that it might do the same for you.

The image and words above are offered by A Tree of Light website in the hope of providing inspiration and comfort to a troubled world during this time of dire crisis. The message is written by spiritual Elders, Those who have gone before us on Their spiritual journey, and Who now live beyond the veil of our awareness. Though we do not see Them, They are here, guiding us as we travel along our own path of evolution. They are our Brothers and Sisters.

A Tree of Light website is an outgrowth of a relationship that has been forged in recent years between a group of people from around the world and Elders in the spiritual realm who have been guiding the group’s evolution.

If you feel so inclined, please visit atreeoflight.org. There you will learn a bit of the fascinating origins of A Tree of Light, and will have access to the profound words and teachings of Those whose footsteps we follow as we travel on our journey into a new new Aquarian civilization in which peace, harmony, unity, cooperation, truth, beauty, and love will reign supreme.

When you visit the website, be sure to check out the “About” section to learn a little of the Tree of Light history and those involved, and then explore the Tree for a wealth of profound teachings from our Elders. It is those words that help me keep my eye focused on the beautiful new civilization of love and light that is emerging from beneath the dark, rather than on the dying world of fear and negativity.

The “About” section, a glossary of terms, contact, and other information can be found in the menu (three lines) at the upper left corner of the home page.

Finally, I leave you with the beautiful and comforting words offered in the following brief video. https://youtu.be/TR2IGuyJSUM. Please enjoy!

Please also visit A Tree of Light on YouTube at: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCypJyrSfUCNz9PyBzcZgNJg

Blessings and peace to all.

Courage and Compassion

This beautiful, uplifting and inspiring poem was written by Leslie Stubbs. It is a blessing to travel the path of light with Lesley and her sister.

PEACE

My sister lights a peace candle.

Invisible currents make it dance,

Flickering and flaring both

As hope does

Beside TV images of war,

A Ukrainian mother prepares to give birth

In a subterranean bunker,

A Ukrainian businesswoman does gun training

With her new-formed female squad,

A Ukrainian grandmother serves tea and pastry

To a captive 18-year-old Russian soldier

Bartering his release upon his own Mother coming for him.

When the Ukrainian President says “I am still here”

And when ordinary citizens swear

They’d rather die fighting off

The long shadow of Putin For their children’s sake

They wake the heart of the world.

And every courageous action,

Every compassionate deed,

Every risky protest on the street,

Every meditation for Peace,

And every dancing candle,

Send ruby flaming arrows of Love

Into the chalice of the Heart Of the Soul of humanity.

Photo image courtesy of New Waves of Light (nwol.us)

Sunny Side Up!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peace and love to all. Sunny side up!

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

Don’t Look Now, but . . .

I’ve been off dumpster diving in old files again. I am often surprised to find bits and pieces of myself wallowing around in the trash bin, waiting to be rediscovered and reevaluated. Today, for instance I stumbled upon something I wrote a decade ago, on January 13, 2012. It’s an unwitting prelude to my most recent blog Link about New Year resolutions written just one week ago. It’s eye-opening to find myself lurking around somewhere in the past—a reminder of who I was in 2012, and who I am now, one decade later. The following was me then . . .

It’s a mighty good thing that I made a resolution to not make resolutions a while back, because if I hadn’t, I’d have disappointed myself many times over by breaking them many times over. When I think of the mind-boggling multitude of resolution possibilities that I could have made and didn’t, my eyes glaze over and I give thanks for whatever powers-that-be for snatching me out of the probable abyss of temporary insanity teetering on the brink of permanence. My decision to eschew resolutions is the wisest resolution I’ve made in this, or any other lifetime.

Just think of it. The do’s. The don’ts. Write more, eat less. Exercise more, spend less. Cook more, eat out less. Meditate more, judge less. It’s mind numbing. And guilt producing.

The other day I found myself feeling just a slight bit irritated for having allowed myself to wander away from the path of joyful inner peace.  Was it non-resolutionary guilt, I wondered? I caught myself singing the Whiffenpoof song.

We’re poor little lambs who have lost our way …  little black sheep who have gone astray … bah, bah, bah … doomed from here to eternity …  Lord have mercy on such as we—blah blah blah.

Really? Do I really think that of myself? The very thought of such a thing sent me off into another conversation with myself.

I’m on a downhill slide.

No, you’re not. You just think you are.

I can’t seem to get myself turned around.

You just think that you can’t. You can.

I know. But I’m stuck

No you’re not.

Why do you keep denying my feelings?

Because you’re wrong.

But if I feel this way, then I feel this way.  And you’re telling me that I don’t.

You may feel the way you feel, but it is a denial of the truth of who you are. 

Oh. I think I get it. I’m putting emPHAsis on the wrong sylLABle—again.

Exactly. You are putting the emphasis on the false ego self that you think you are. 

Fine. That’s all well and good, but I’m still stuck.

. . . And here I am now, a decade later, and happily, I’m unstuck—thanks in part, at least, to some unlikely help; a pandemic and a mishap became the catalysts that pushed me closer to the achievement of the goals I had not actually set.

Between Covid and a broken kneecap, I cook more and eat out less. Physical therapy requires exercise whether I like it or not, and when confined to the Lazygirl for days, and weeks on end, writing and meditation have become my best friends and favorite allies. Clearly, there is something to be said for a pandemic and broken kneecap. The best bonus? During my forced confinement, I wrote and published a second book after a 17-year hiatus. There are blessings in everything, if one but seeks to find.

Isn’t it strange how non-goals of years gone by became reality while I wasn’t looking? Sometimes the progress we’ve made is only visible when viewed through the lens of decades past. The True Self knows the desires of the heart, even if we don’t. All we need to do is drop the judgment we hold of ourselves and learn to trust that we will be given the answers to questions that we may not yet have asked. What we cannot do for ourselves, Higher Forces can do for us. What a blessing!

Happy New Year. Happy New Decade. May you look back upon all of your decades with satisfaction, gratitude and joy. What could be better than that?

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)

PS: I wouldn’t be true to myself if I didn’t make at least one tiny little stab at the dreaded self-promotion. It’s my most unfavorite thing to do, but successful authors everywhere say that it must be done, so I’ll do it. Bah, bah, bah. If you’d like to have a look at my new book, please press here. Thank you!

 

It’s Never Too Late

In the infancy of a new year, there is always a lot of talk about goals, have you noticed? I  flunked out of Goal-Setting 101 long ago once I realized that in my world, goals are a lost cause. I don’t know about you, but lost causes are not good for my self-esteem.

Yesterday I watched myself slide through the day substituting small, mundane tasks for the big ones that make me truly happy—the ones that move me one step closer to the achievement of my desires. Sometimes it feels like a gigantic accomplishment just to finish a nagging little job that gets shifted from one day to the next, but those mini accomplishments don’t bring much joy at the end of the day when my head hits the pillow. Mostly, they’re just con jobs that I pull on myself to make me think that I’ve accomplished something really worthwhile.

My wise mother lived by the philosophy that she had wasted a day if she did not complete at least one task that she would not ordinarily do in the space of one day. For her that could be polishing the silver, or letting a hem down for a growing daughter. For me, it might be writing a blog, or taking one step in the direction of the shameless promotion of my new book, Voices: Who’s in Charge of the Committee in My Head?

To all appearances, yesterday’s activities (or lack thereof) didn’t exactly catapult me any closer to the achievement of my heart’s desires, but they did at least regenerate an interest in revisiting what those desires are. That may not be much, but at least it’s a start.

By the way, if you happen to be a member of the senior set like me, it might help to remember that we’re never too old to dream. Grandma Moses started her career as an artist in her 70’s. My mother married the love of her life when they were both in their 80’s and soon after, they sailed off into the sunset on a European honeymoon leaving the rest of us in the wake of their joy. My joy came last year when, in my 80’s, I published a second book—18 years after the first. It’s never too late to start something new.

But that was then, and this is now, and what will I do today to make my head happy when it hits the pillow tonight? How about if I write a blog? Or maybe do a bit of book promotion? Oh no! That’s the part that makes me want to stick my head back into the sand. My head prefers a pillow.

Well, today I wrote a blog, and maybe even snuck a teensy bit of book promotion into the mix. I’d say that I killed two-birds with one stone, but since I would not feel good about dusting off a couple of innocent birds, I’ll just say that I checked a couple of to-do’s off my list that hadn’t even made it onto the list.

Ah. My head and I will rest happily tonight.

Now, I’d like to ask you a question. If you were to do just one thing today that would make you happy tomorrow, what would that be? I’d really like to hear your thoughts about that! If you feel so inclined, please share in the comments section.

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)

P.S. If you’d like to have a look at my new book, please press here. I’m not sure if I’ve aced Links 101 yet, but if not, you may need to click twice.  There’s always something new to learn—at any age, right?

Hopes, Dreams, and Expectations

Okay, I confess—I am a little disappointed—a rather uncharacteristic feeling in the face of my usual Pollyanna worldview. Life on my planet is bass-ackwards. I recognize, of course, that my mild disappointment is but a drop in the ocean compared to current world events, but still—it’s my drop, my ocean, my planet. So in the overall scheme of things, my mini-discouragement doesn’t really matter very much, does it? Or does it?

So I ask myself—what is the source of this momentary dismay?

Well, my follow-up appointment on the status of my shattered patella dashed any hope of being sprung from the cumbersome knee mobilizer that I’ve been sleeping with and dragging around behind my walker for the past six weeks. Instead, I was sentenced to another six weeks of same old-same old. Bummer. The good news is that healing is much better than expected, surgery is off the table, and physical therapy can begin next week. Focus on the donut, Julia—not the hole.

Then, the dream of soaring sales of my newly released book, Voices: Who’s in Charge of the Committee in My Head, is—for the moment at least —nothing more than a mere pipe dream, but hope springs eternal. Perhaps reality manifests only when it receives a little help from the dreamer.

At the onset of my first six-week sentence in the Lazygirl, I had high hopes for a miraculous transformation from flawed human persona to heavenly angel with ginormous wings. Apparently, I slept through the first opportunity, so I have been given a second chance. That’s the thing with us humans, I figure. We are given endless second chances and opportunities to move ahead on our way toward miraculous transformation until we figure out how to get it right.

Some of us are simply slow learners. Well, I hope I get it right this time around so that I can be sprung from my knee trap and released back into the wild abandon that lives behind the wheel of my car. Meanwhile, I’ll do my best to do my best. I’ll attend to business, write blogs, dream dreams of healed knees and soaring book sales, and cross stuff off of my list of things to do—all the stuff that I promised myself I’d do during the first six weeks, but didn’t. Man, is that ever a long list.

Well, at least these are the things that I say I will do. But will I? Ah—therein lies the question. Can I be trusted to keep the promises that I make to myself? Have I followed up on my hopes and dreams in the past? If I fail to live up to my own expectations, will I become my own judge and jury, or will I simply become an observer and say, “Huh. Well would you look at that? Maybe there’s a better way to do it in the the next round.”

So again, my inner voice (the noisy one) launches into overdrive with questions that seem to defy answers. Does my disappointment really matter in the overall scheme of things? Do my thoughts and feelings make a difference in the world? Do my hopes, dreams, and expectations have an impact on my life, or on the lives of others? Where is the quiet Voice of Reason that has answers to these mysterious questions when I need It?

Oh, We are here, patiently awaiting your realization that you have wandered away for a spell. We know that you are aware of your wanderings, and that you have allowed distractions to lure you away from your inner being; We know that you feel as if you have disappointed yourself yet again. Your discouragement comes not from outer circumstances, but from within the part of you that yearns to reunite with your True Self. Your salvation will come when you realize that the only way for you to be sprung (to use your word) back into freedom is to reaffirm your commitment to doing those things which you know are in your own best interests, and in the best interests of the world.

In your wanderings, you have temporarily lost sight of your mission and purpose. We encourage you to reignite the flame of expectancy. So dear one, hope your hopes, and dream your dreams, and know that the power and energy of your True Self will fuel their manifestation. Coupled with faith, you cannot fail.  

Know that We love and support you; We stand behind you always; We are ever ready to be the wind beneath your wings as your soar toward the highest and best within yourself. You have as many opportunities as you will ever need to realize your True Self, and we joyfully await your arrival at the ultimate destination of the Soul.

Thank you, dear Friends, for helping me to reconnect with my Self. As I do so, it suddenly occurs to me that my one drop in the ocean does indeed affect the entire ocean. Meanwhile, should I become lost amidst the waves again, I trust that you will come and find me.

If the focus of my mind becomes the reality of my world, then what is it that I wish to manifest? Well for starters, how about an ocean of love?

That sounds like a mighty good place to start, right?

And by the way, I am happy to report that as I come to the end of a newly-written blog, yesterday’s disappointment has morphed into today’s gratitude for second chances. Six more weeks to manifest hopes and dreams. Hallelujah. Ground hog day lives on!

A final note from a reluctant author: self-promotion is the bane of this writer’s existence, but I’m going to do it anyway. After all, how else will hopes and dreams become reality if I’m afraid to give them a little push? So, here goes folks: Please check out my book on Amazon. Voices: Who’s in Charge of the Committee in My Head? For more information, see Something New is on the Way (October 31, 2021). I thank you so much!

 Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

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)

 

Disorderly Conduct

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, my poor aching psyche!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or both.

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