Wine from Orange Juice??

One day, after meditating, I was struck by a certain “truth” that seem inescapable:  Ego’s health makes or breaks my opinion of myself.  Further, my opinion of myself is either something I know intuitively about myself (healthy view) or is influenced by outside sources (imbalanced view). After conducting a bit of research online and in various texts, I have come to believe that one’s sense of self lies on a continuum, where healthy self-respect and inner self knowing can slowly erode toward self-insecurity and  vulnerability, eventually, if left unchecked will evolve into a self-absorbed, abusive condition that is fully suspicious of, yet dependent upon others and outside influences.

I've had a few recent experiences in which I  was witness to this phenomenon.

Wayne Dyer explains it this way: You can only give others what you have inside of yourself.  Therefore, to give love away to others, you must cultivate love for yourself FIRST. Dyer uses the metaphor of  squeezing an orange – asking you what comes out when you squeeze it. Most people answer, “orange juice” comes out. Why? Because that is what is inside. When humans are squeezed, what comes out of them is what they harbor inside of themselves. Harbor love, acceptance, joy, confidence, peace and harmony towards yourself so that you can radiate it towards others. You can only extend to another that which you are in truth.

And then, while in mediation, I realized the truth about light.  The speed of light, actually.  In physics, the speed of light is expressed as c  and is valued at 299,792,458 meters per second, precisely.  It is, essentially, the fasted element known to humans and is considered instantaneous.  Matter slows down the speed of light.

And in Neil Donald Walsh’s children’s book, Little Soul, he explains that light is all that we are.  Ok; bear with me now.  This is a spiritual concept.  But I think it has some merit.  I recently saw a documentary where a very hot and sexy English guy was traveling the US to find out what made us American and he was talking about religion and he said basically that if you think about it, cultures were formed separated from one another, with vast distances between each other.  They developed on their own, in their own way, but remarkably they all have similar tenets and basic fundamental ideologies.  So, we must have come from one thing… but distance made us think we were different or separate.

In Little Soul, one soul wants to practice forgiveness and another friendly soul steps forward to come into their next life to do “something” that would require forgiveness.  The friendly soul explains that in order to do this “not so nice thing” it would have to become dense and dark and slow down it’s light energy in order to perform such a heinous task.  Hmmmm…. Light, dense, darkness….

I think that everyone on this planet was given a ’friendly angel’ to come into their life and help them learn a lesson.  Maybe a few.

I know that mine has been one of jealous and fear of losing something dear to me.  Until I realize, on a very spiritual level that there is only one thing and that thing is me, and that thing is this idea of “God” acting through me, I won’t really be free from the constraints of humanity.  And this is ok with me, for the most part.  Because, right here and now, as a human, I get to be a mother of a wonderful child.  I am friends with amazing people.  I have the most spectacular family members.  I have been blessed with great love.  I have traveled and I have been challenged.  As an angel, what is there for me but chess while you await your next assignment?  Haaha

I have had a lot of people make me the butt of their jokes, use me to prop themselves up, walk over me, violate me for their own satisfaction, treat me as though I did not matter… but in the end, they could not take away from me what I truly know as my very own spiritual truth: I am that I AM.   Dude!  I am here!  Nothing can change that fact.  And while I am here, I might as well seek to find a way to enjoy it as much as possible.

Shallow relationships mean nothing to me.  Material possessions?  HA!  Status?  I don‘t think so.    But talk to me, look me in the eye, tell me your biggest fears and share with me what you believe to be the truth of who you are and now we are talking.  I seek not your approval but your soul.  It’s like the orange… I am not squeezing you hoping to get wine.  (although I do like red wine a lot) I am squeezing you to find out what you are made of.  I am interested in what comes out of you.  Not what you want to take from me.  Jealousy no longer has a power over me because I realize that there is nothing anyone can take from me that I am not willing to part with, and quite simply, there really isn’t much to me, expect light.  I dare you try and steal that.

One Night Only

This may be an X-rated post.  I would feel morally responsible for damaging the vision of any  Cinderella-esque fantasies.

In my whole life I have had a few of the so-called fairy-book romances.  Not one ever worked out just as I had always dreamed.  I often wonder what that must feel like for the ones for whom it “had been fulfilled“. Does that relationship exist?  God bless them if so.  I know that  I have had a long, strange trip, as the Dead would say.  And all the better for it.

If I could sit down with a young woman today and share with her the trials and triumphs of love, I’d likely share the following series of lessons.  Much more.  But here’s a start.

Lesson #1: Ford Tempos.  Intercourse in the front seat of a Ford Tempo (or any car)  is uncomfortable under any circumstances.  In the case the antagonist tries to assert himself, affirm your boundaries and request that he relocate to a more appropriate venue, like a coffee shop, where you can discuss, freely, under florescent lights, the reasons why sex is not an immediate need.  In this light, things become much clearer.

Lesson #2: Intoxication.  Young men under the influence tend to not make the best decisions when it comes to carnal relations.  It is best to regard their advances with general benevolence, but it is best to affirm a virtuous boundary that without the long-term promise there is no penetration.

Lesson #3: Crushes.  The guy that you’ve had the crush on for two years and finally decides to acknowledge you means less about him discovering you and more about him running out of prospects.  Hold tight to your lessons 1 & 2.

Lesson #4: Big Brother’s Best Friend.  Don’t ever, under any circumstances date your big brother’s best friend.  Even if he approves,  he will always butt-in and try to manipulate the outcomes.  It’s best to remain the “one who got away”.

Lesson #5: Traveling.  When traveling in foreign countries remember that foreign men prey upon foreign women.  When they say things like, “you are the most beautiful” or that “they have never felt this way” it’s really simply a cultural difference that we, in America, have yet to experience because most men have never really explored feelings beyond the penis.

Lesson 5 a: While in France, remember that they drink A LOT.  Their forward advances are nothing more than an indication of their intoxication; not about your beauty.  Look around you!   You are not all that amazing when compared to the millions of women around the world.  We are all beautiful.  

Lesson 5 b: When in Croatia, remember that, due to the economic conditions,  the many expatiates seems to think they can own, redistribute and confiscate all and any foreign properties at will.
Lesson 5 c: When in Austria, remember that studious hostel workers are really as sincere as they look.  Please do not damage their innocence.  Go to the cafe until the urge passes you.
Lesson 5 d: In Slovenia, all young men are generally interested in learning more about the language, but they are also interested in practicing sexual exploration at all costs.  Again, cafes are great places to explore your emotions.  I think that is why European cafes are always bustling.
Lesson 5 e: Argentinean men prefer the made-up, sophisticated, alluring women.  A lot of independent, strong American women do not succumb to their standard.  But if you were to express yourself successfully and then they want to marry you, be careful.  Mammitis may displays her ugly head. And she can be a challenge.

Lesson #6: Final Lessons.  As you age, learn to focus more on yourself and less on what you think “he” or “she” wants from you.  YOU are the only person in your life.  Even as a devoted mother I can say this.  As painful as it is to admit, my son’s life is HIS life, not something I have any control over.  All I can do is allow life to unfold as it may and trust that it was always be a blessing.  Curses only happen to shift us from the unreal to the real.

All the loves of my life have done nothing more than give me a better insight into my own light.  And without those loves, I’d not have discovered the beauty of my light.  And they do not create my light; it’s mine.  Yet, it is so often how we associated that feeling of love with the creation of light.  Yet, it’s always only our light that ever shines.  Even the love I feel between me and my son.  Our lights are our own lights; even as much as I wanted to control it and be the source of his light, I know that his light shines with or without me.  He is a beacon of his own volition.  How scary and yet how beautiful that is.

What lessons would I share with him?

“Your soul once sat on an easel on my knee.
For ages I have been sketching you
With myriad shapes of sounds and light;

Now awake, dear pilgrim,
With your thousand swaying arms
That need to caress the sky.”

~~Hafiz

All I can say for myself now is that I have had the privilege of love and the opportunity to test my theories.  I am grateful to all the past loves to have allowed me to come into their lives and experience the exhilarating ecstasy of love at its purest form.  And most of all, I am so grateful for the opportunity to love this child, Ziggy Finn Santos for all that he is now and know that all he is to become.

I will never forget the one night in which he came to me.  Long, laborious, painful and beautiful night of confusion and trust.  And then he appeared, so peaceful and beautiful.  He is the LOVE OF MY LIFE and likely will always be such.  One night; how it changes your life.

I am a Change Agent

When I was a young girl I would go to church with my mother, who was an organist and choir director.  As she practiced the hymns for the service, I’d wander around the pews and read passages from the bible.  My older brother had been teaching me new tricks.  One, was how to catch things in my mouth.  So I practiced with my Sunday school offering, a quarter.  I would toss it up and try and catch it in my mouth.  Most of the time it would fall to the floor and I would have to clamber under the pews to find it.  But once, it slipped right into my mouth, down the back of the throat and, slurp!  It was gone!  I swallowed it! 

I was sitting quietly as my mother played the last hymn that alerted the children to leave service and head downstairs to Sunday school.  She looked back at me and asked, “where is your offering?” meaning the quarter, which I had swallowed about 15 minutes earlier.  “I swallowed it” I said.  She looked at me and then her face went white with panic.  She stood up and called to the Minister.  Service was stopped and she called the Catholic Church, where my father and brother were in their own Sunday service and apparently, a lay-person had to interrupt the Priest in the middle of his sermon to ask him to notify my father that there was a family emergency and to meet his wife at the Lutheran Church immediately. 

All the while, I felt fine.  I wasn’t quite sure what all the panic was for.  My brother smirked at me when they arrived to the church.  My father was impatient and annoyed that my mother interrupted service so this minor offense.  “She’ll just shit it out!” my father sighed. 

Nonetheless, we drove the 15 miles to the hospital; I was admitted to the emergency room.   Our family doctor happened to be on call and appeared from behind the curtain, ear to ear with a grin that noted his pure delight in this latest catastrophe I’d gotten myself into.  Earlier that year I had fallen on my bicycle and well, I required stitches in a rather conspicuous place. 

“What seems to be the kerfuffle this time?” he asked.   “She swallowed a quarter.  Her Sunday school offering.” my mother pressed.  He looked me over, took my pulse, my temperature, and looked into my eyes.  “Well, there’s not much we can do.  I can take an X-ray to make sure it’s not stuck anywhere.  Likely, we’ll just have to wait until she, ah, discards of it naturally” the doctor said. 

Xrays were taken.  You could see Washington’s head and the date on the face.  My brother took them to show-and-tell at his school.  For a few days, my mother would examine the contents of my bowel movements.   My father told her that this was her project and he’d have nothing to do with it.  She gave up after a few times.  “Yuck!” she'd scream as she was riffling through my poo. 

We never did find the quarter.  The inside family joke is that I made change: two dimes and a nickel.  I guess we just never saw them come out.  And that is why now believe it was my destiny to be a "change agent".  

Shoes

I was recently awakened to the idea that the shoes you wear may quite certainly make the impression about you.  And, for a fact, I know that the shoes that you wear are important to the activity you are embarking. 

Take for instance my recent foray into 14 miles of back country where I wore a study, yet light weight cross-training shoe carrying almost 30 lbs of gear and within 5 miles my arches were not just barking but SCREAMING at the intensity of pain they felt with each step.  Later in the hike, a through-hiker on the PCT acknowledged that my choice, while admiral, was illusory given my load.

I remember years ago when I was a recent devotee to backpacking that I arrived at the trail head without the shoes required.  I simply forgot!  I had to buy new ones at the last outpost town and hope that they worked out.

When I was 12 or so I remember being ridiculed by a teacher because I wore cowgirl boots to school.  She belittled me in front of everyone saying, "what? you think you are going to clean the horse stalls?" and told me to sit in the back of the room for the class because she didn't want my stench to interrupt her.  

Every time I see a pair of sexy boots that I'd just die for I hear her cackling in the back of my mind and I move on to more sensible shoes for the urban set.

Yet, I often go outside my bubble and I see women, clearly not clearing out horse stalls wearing boots and other quite undignified footwear in the setting of choice and they seem quite sexy.  What gave them the godly right to walk around like that??  And why don't I feel the same about my shoes?

And then, it became apparent in the last year how my work colleagues began to comment upon my footwear.  It was often with surprise and impressionable glee that they commented on my latest pumps, high heels and sleek ballerinas.  It signaled, for me, a shift in my career from, doer to overseer. I used to lug these heavy Rubbermaid tubs of educational items from school to school as a Coordinator.  But now, as a Specialist, I get to marvelously sit in my office whist a staffer does the schlepping.  Has the change in authority and priority really changed who I am?

I have this one friend who wears ridiculously high high heels.  Well, actually there are a few of them in the office.  They all seem to balance effortlessly as they push buttons on the copier and fax documents. I've often fantasized myself walking into the office sensually with everyone looking at me as I pass and sort of acknowledging that I've got my game on.  It's yet to happen.  When I do wear the fancy heels, I am often barefoot by mid day.

Then there was the recent long distant trip on I-5 where I saw surreptitiously strewn evidence of a suitcase's entire contents.  And what caught my eye, more than anything else was the tiny little girls' sandals that were tossed along the cement embankment between the swift lanes of the interstate highway signaling much more than their presence as outrageous.  I saw, in that flash of a second the loss of innocence.  I saw the fleetingness of youth. The preciousness of the very seconds we have, when we, as adults, so unrelenting force our children into our schedules, that we hurriedly shove their tiny feet into shoes with abruptness and frustration.  And all they are doing is being young.

When I was 20 I bought my first pair of Birkenstock sandals because it symbolized a movement in my life.  It re-identified me from one identity to another.  I wore those sandals for years before they wore out their soles with defiance that I'd ever be anything other than that rambunctious 20-something who bought them with her daddy's money.

And daily, I find myself, shoving my son's feet into much too small shoes in an effort to be on time and quite frankly because I can't afford to buy new ones.  And he smiles at me knowingly as I shyly admit failure.
Sometimes the pain of motherhood isn't something you can walk away from.  

And shoot, here I was, 14 miles into the back-county in the Sierras with shoes that were not sufficient for me and I had only 14 miles to hike out.  What was I gonna do?

Walk out.  Just like I walked in.  The pain, yes, indescribable.  But that didn't make it into the Facebook posts.  No.  What was important was that I DID IT.  And even more, I did it regardless of the gear lacking, the companion lacking, the time lacking, the son, who was with his father, yet to be ready to do such a hike, was lacking.  The shoe choice, that I spent too much money one, was lacking.... I did it.

You know, it was funny because I walked all around the campsite, the hot springs without shoes, in the grass, among sage, rose thorns and stinging nettle without any issue.  I felt free.

Today I dared wear high heels to work and wow! the pain I felt as my yet-to-heal arches gave me warning that such shoes are not for the kind of girl I've become.  I smiled to myself as I walked comfortably between offices and copy machines barefoot knowing in my heart that I was never the kind of girl to wear them in the first place.

Shoes.  We talk of Jesus and the shoes he wore.  Or how it's a sacred practice of removing shoes before entering temples.  How the sick are washed at the feet of synagogue by healers.  I remember the first time I put shoes on my son.  It was a major transition between being completely helpless and dependent upon me and finally realizing his own potential as a human.  We walk upright.  That's what humans do.

"Stand upright, speak thy thoughts, declare The truth thou hast, that all may share; Be bold, proclaim it everywhere: They only live who dare."- Voltaire.  

Does walking have anything to do with being authentic?  Just wondering.  And how do shoes define that?

Indigo Girls' Deconstruction - Really... You need to read this!!

We talked up all night and came to no conclusion
We started a fight that ended in silent confusion
And as we sat stuck you could hear the trash truck
Making its way through the neighborhood
Picking up the thrown outs
Different from house to house
We get to decide what we think is no good
We're sculpted from youth
The chipping away makes me weary
And as for the truth it seems like we just pick a theory
The one that justifies our daily lives
And backs us with quiver and arrows
To protect openings
Cause when the warring begins
How quickly the wide open narrows
Into the smallness of our deconstruction of love
We thought it was changing, but it never was
It's just the same as it ever was
A family of foxes came to my yard and dug in
I looked in a book to see what this could possibly mean
Cause there is fate in the breeze and signs in the trees
Possible tragic events
When forces collide with the damage strewn wide
And holes blasted straight through the fence
The sky starts to crash the rain on the roof starts to drumming
And laid out like cash your take on my list of shortcomings
The show starts to close, I know how this goes
The plot a predictable showing
And though it seems grand it's just one speck of sand
And back to the hourglass we're going
Back to the smallness of our deconstruction of love
We thought it was changing, but it never was
Our deconstruction of love

Lonely, Alone with Me.

The other day I was fixing something on our bike.  I say our bike, because Ziggy and I ride this sort of tandem bike; where a little tyke bike is attached to my big person bike.  As I was turning this screw, I negligently pinched my pinky finger and it hurt real bad.  I screamed (amazingly enough I refrained from explicative’s) and I ran into the house moaning.  Ziggy followed me, all concerned and as I was applying ice and cool water I began to cry.  Sob really.  And without really thinking I cried out, “this is why I want a partner!!  I am so tired of doing this all by myself!  I want help!!!”   The tears streamed down my face and this sort of deep sorrow welled up from inside.  And I looked at Ziggy, startled and I realized that no one was coming to save me.  No one was going to help me.  It was just me.  And him.  It was us.  And that is the way that it is.  How long it will be like this, I don’t know.  But it is this way now and there isn’t anything I can do to magically to change it.  I must accept this reality.  And it was then that I realized just how desperately I’ve been seeking a partner.  I haven’t been seeing my real reality at all.

I mean for a long while there I thought that if I did my hair a certain way, or if I dressed a certain way or if I lost weight or if I did just this or just that, that I’d meet him.  The “guy”.  And I know that there isn’t really any “guy” at all.  I mean, sure, of course, I’ve got to remain positive and believe that he exists some place out there in some other plane, some extended version of my truth.  But he isn’t HERE.  NOW.  I am alone.  Siddhartha (one of my favorite books, thank you Johnny) explained that when someone seeks, it often happens that his eye only sees the thing that he seeks.  He sees nothing and takes in nothing because he sees only what he seeks.  Seeking means having a goal.  But finding means being free.  Huh... find???

I walked to the beach last night.  I’ve been sort of sad lately as this realization has been sinking in.  As I walked, I cried and I thought about my life.  Am I having a mid-life crisis, really?  I mean, am I really doing that thing that 40-somethings supposedly do when they realize that close to half of their life is nearly over? Am I assessing my life for value and substance?  Scrutinizing my friends and acquaintances with a bit of spicy envy?  Comparing myself to others?  Judging my experience based upon the latest Comso or People Magazine spotlight on every day lives of the rich and famous?  Am I really doing this?  Really?

Yes I am.

You see, I am not like most people.  And sure, I know you are saying, well, we all are unique in our own way.  But seriously, when I look around at others in my immediate circle I see people with family living relatively nearby.  I see extended families who go out of their way to help each other.  I see best friends from high school arranging play dates for their children.  I see college sweethearts, heck, high school sweethearts pawing each other in the grocery store.  I see good friends who’ve known each other for a long time.  I don’t have any of that around me.  I am completely alone.  And to no fault of anyone but myself.  I created this reality.  Through a series of calculated and innocent acts of defiance I have virtually made myself completely isolated.  The only exception is Ziggy and well, he's not even with me full time.  

I have memories of me, being awakened in the middle of the night, sobbing in the corner of my dormitory hallway by some floor mate frustrated with the incessant noise.  What was I doing?  Crying because I was lonely.  What about the time I skinny dipped by moonlight at Moon Dunes Beach in Lake Tahoe, alone?  Or the time I camped out in a thunderous hail storm in the Sierras, again alone.  No, that time I was with a friends dog, Allagash.  Maybe it was my 30th birthday when I camped out in the woods near Lake Tahoe and burnt all my old journals.  Or the time I went to Eastern Europe, alone. Or the summer I spent on a survey crew in West Virginia where we lived in an old farmhouse with no running water or electricity and during the day I’d be totally alone for hours under the ancient wild cherry trees of Otter Creek Wilderness, high as a kite wondering what in God's name was the name of our crew leader.  Or in Argentina, a city of 13 million, again, alone.  Maybe it was the time I took a road trip across 10 western states, alone.  Or when I’d go to music festivals, with a bunch of people, but they’d find me, hours later, tripping out, dancing, alone.

Are we seeing a pattern here?  I have learned that patterns are inherent realities of nature.  They cannot be altered from their organic state, but they can be modified or disturbed in tendency and form.  Their substance remains intact.  Am I product of my patterns of behavior or am I a pattern in and of itself?  Was I sent here to learn the life of living in such a disturbing pattern or was I here to disturb this pattern that was set in motion?

And you know the worst part?  People have tried to befriend me, members of the church invite me to all kinds of events and parties and even just to hang out and what do I do?  I defer, I delay, or I discount the invitation as bullshit.  Why?  I will let you answer that because I think I am too ashamed to write down what I really feel.

The truth is I am 40 now and I am realizing that I have made choices and gone down certain roads in my life that have led me to these consequences.  I see that I have traveled far from my path of origin and those experiences, certainly have made me who I am today, but have left me far from my home.  I am uncertain how I will ever find my way back again.

Again, Siddhartha said, “we are not going in circles, we are going upwards.   The path is a spiral and we have climbed many steps.”

So, for those of you who read my blog and then actually see me in person, please don’t mention this blog.  Don’t apologetically invite me over for tea.  Don’t try and take me in like a lost stray cat.  I hate cats.  This is a cathartic experience.  Putting it all on paper and then releasing it off into the Universe.  For me, writing is sacred.  Just let me be.  Let me sit with this for a spell.  Let’s see what I find.

Mudifestation

Wow.  I am 40.  I think I am having the ubiquitous mid-life crisis.  As I grow, learn and live I find that the experiences I am faced with are both typical in a global sense and yet independently unique to me.  Everyone has experienced loss, disappointment, betrayal, etc.  Everyone has had moments of pure ecstasy, unfettered joy, unbridled passion, etc.  This is life.

We have the opportunity to choose how we respond to life’s circumstances.  We do, but we often fall into the egoist trap of ‘victim mentality’ blaming others and not truly being authentic with our emotional reactions. We lack faith.  Faith in the bigger picture.

At this point in my life, you’d think I’d have it all figured out, right?  At least, that is what my mind tells me should be happening.  It’s a constant barrage of criticisms and judgments for not “having met the right one” or “not having achieved a pinnacle in my career” or “feeling like a failure as a mother”.  I spend a lot of time trying to see the truth.  And sometimes that intense observation only muddies the view.

In Science of Mind (SOM) they speak a lot about manifestation.  If you read definitions, you’d know that to manifest is to “demonstrate” something.  It may be an indication or expression of the existence of something happening. If you saw the movie, the Secret, you may believe that simply by believing you can, you will.

These definitions are interesting.  Because as a practitioner of SOM, I’d debate the idea of the mind seeing versus the heart feeling.  I met someone recently who adamantly expressed his mind-focused view of the world, almost in opposition to my heart-centered view of the same world.  Which is correct?  I actually enjoy debating the difference between the two and I’d argue the definition is somewhere within the shades of color representing a glimpse of actual truth.

What we don’t know is so much greater than that which we do know.  Therefore, how can we possibly limit ourselves with vision boards, prayers for something and petitions for change?  Be the change you want to see in the world is not a petition for change, it is quite simply, a declaration of action.

One of my favorite songs of all time, is Round Here by Counting Crows.  It starts out like this, “stepped out the front door like a ghost into the fog where no one notices the contrast of white on white.  And in-between the moon and you the angels get a better view of the crumbling difference between wrong and right.”

Why can the angels see the difference and I am so confused?  I feel like I’ve stepped out onto the front porch of my life and I am walking like a ghost into the fog.  Not knowing where I am going or where I will end up.  If I fear and fret about the outcome I only confuse my reality.  The total truth is that I’ve just stepped out into the night.  That is all.  Nothing more, nothing less.

I believe I’ve discovered a new phenomenon.  It’s a process of “mudifestation”.  I think, that as humans, or as somewhat astute humans who feel as if we’ve got some kind of control over our existence and we try to SEE more than what really IS.  And instead of “manifesting” truths we “mudifest” the reality of our existence.

I know I am a lot like Maria in that song.   I thought I was close to understanding God.  I know I am more than just a little misunderstood and have trouble acting normal when I am nervous.   I am, in short, me.  A unique totally independent manifestation of the greater whole of existence.  There is a fine line between my truth and the whole truth.  The dirty water isn’t necessarily an indication of wrong direction.  It’s just a place where we are.

Dennis Merritt Jones came to speak at the Center maybe a year ago and he spoke of this parable of a tiny civilization who lived in a stream of flowing water.  They clung to the rocks, and sticks and leaves, whatever they could and held on with all their might.  Strife was their existence.  But what else was there?  They couldn’t let go!?  But one finally, out of sheer exhaustion did finally let go.  At first it was terrified and regretful that it had “died” but the others, as it passed by saw it as a messiah and believe that it had become enlightened.  So, who knows what we are doing here… each of us on our own journey.  Sometimes lost.  Sometimes trapped.  Sometimes floating by in the messiness of the muddy waters of life.

Lost in the mystery of mudifestation I sleep tonight and pray, on this beautiful full moon that when I wake and step out into the new day I will be grateful for where I am, who I am and what shows up in my life.

Why I Hate Dating

It was the first date I had since I had become single again.  I was late.  Traffic was bad and I didn't exactly know where to go.  I arrived sweaty and frazzled.  His profile said he was two years my junior and athletic.  What approached me was, in fact, someone who looked like a fat, old, balding version of Mel Gibson.  Lesson #1 in online dating:  Never agree to dinner.  Why?  Because it's too long to commit to being with someone who you may very well desire to decapitate.  As we began our small talk, ordering our food and drinking wine I began to realize immediately that he was regretting this as much as me.  I ordered the linguine with clams.  It slopped and slurped all over the place.  I chugged down my wine while he made references to his mini mansion in Montecito all the while dissing environmentalists, women, Americans and small children.  At one point, when I was offered a Styrofoam container for my left overs and I declined he literally rolled his eyes and sighed painfully aloud.  Racing towards my Prius, which only inflamed him further, we said our good byes and I laughed the whole way home. 

Finding myself at the age of 40 and single is a surprise to say the least.  Dating is not like it was when I was twenty. 

Lesson #2: never date anyone with weapons.  Oh, and there are so many men in Ventura County who have weapons surprisingly.  One of which, pulled a gun on me after my dog took a innocent swat at his ancient, smelly, cat.  You see, this is not something that you can really put on your profile, but some, cleverly drop innuendos with pictures of them shooting guns or killing some kind of woodland creature.  This is all fine with me; I've never been one to judge a man who can hunt, but one who sport hunts his date over the fate of a feline is someone of a different sorts. 

How about the time that the guy shows up in his van and then I realize as he aimlessly rambles on and on that he, in fact, lives in his van because he got kicked out of his last place for selling drugs.  Or the one who chose to harvest marijuana instead of walking on the beach together.  The marsupial who was insecure about his height.  The one who forgot their wallet.  Or the guy who showed up to a mid-day bicycle date with a water bottle filled with vodka?  Then there was the one who had a small tent (and other things small) and refused to blow his nose as a courtesy and I spent the night making music to his nose whistle. 

Lesson #3: the rejection you feel when the cute guys ignore your profile and sweet emails and winks is not an indication of your self worth or date-ability.  It is, however, a measure of just how paralyzing the new dating paradigm can make women feel.  I think we are honestly seeking a relationship and most of the men on these sites treat it like Craigslist shopping.

The funniest part about it for me is that I've become so much more self confident.  It's like I can finally agree that there is nothing wrong with me.  With all my flaws and imperfections and inadequacies, I am still pretty fucking amazing. 

Lesson #4: love yourself above all else. 

In the Castle

So I've been reading this book, "Entering the Castle" by Caroline Myss.  It's essentially about finding your inner path to God and your Soul's purpose.  She refers to it as "contemporary mysticism."   It's pretty heavy.  Maybe the majority of my followers (what? a whole 10 or so people out there) like to talk spirituality but don't necessarily want to live spirituality.  I wasn't quite sure I wanted to either; and when I got into the book further and combined with rich class discussions, I stated to wish I hadn't opened this can of worms.

You see, for me, at least, when I do the "work" as Byron Katie calls it, my life always seems to fall apart.  Then, between classes, there is a brief respite of calmness, centeredness, synchronicity and then as soon as I start a new one, boom!  the entire world starts exploding all over again. 

Have you ever experienced that in your own life?  I'd be curious to hear.

As far as I had always thought, mystics were these weird, social outcasts that holed up in monasteries or other holy places to connect with God; yet rarely were able to connect with regular human beings.  She is offering a way to be a contemporary mystic, where you can live in this world and still retain a fierce connection to God-like principles.  Seems a little unattainable to me at first glance.

And I think back on my life and I realize that I've never had a plan.  I've not had a lot of guidance.  I've been left to "figure it out" all alone.  I want to beat myself up for being almost 40 and not yet "achieved the greatness" that I thought I'd have achieved by this point.  And when I think about everything I've done, I become a little exhausted; most especially when I think of what yet I have left to do.  Caroline says that it's at this point you can, "let your soul have at it.  Get your mind out of your soul's way."

When you finally choose to "enter the Castle" as she likes to use as a metaphor for her specific set of exercises and meditations; your have a hightened sense of awareness, indicating the "divine has entered your Castle."   And then, from personal experience, watch out!

For instance, "the Divine may manifest in your life in a series of challenges meant to wake you up from thinking that you control your world and everyone in it.  Or perhaps God send you something to endure that seems to have no purpose, no meaning, and is, at least from your perspective, completely undeserved.  You will ask yourself, "Why me? What have I done to deserve this? Why do I have to endure this? What is the reason?"  This mystery may make you struggle to explain what you perceive as an injustice until you accept what God has chose for you."

Aha!  I always knew that sneaky critter called God was up to no good in my life!!  I knew he was out to get me from day one!  Here is proof!  {so says the Ego mind....}

One of the first things that comes to my mind is that in order for humans to explain our situation, we must use words. Words are only symbols that represent emotions and experiences that are soooo freakin old!  How can I define my feelings in words?

Well then, how can one explain what is happening to them?

Laughter is one good example.  With humor, we engage a more primitive part of our being and therefore, theoretically can bypass the Ego mind, perhaps.

Love is another.  When we engage our heart-center and truly act, without fear from this sacred place, we are free from other influences which inhibit truth and grace.  Love, above all is the gift of oneself.

Finally, time and space.  When I am able to just be free from commitments and away from the influences of friends, even though, they are helpful at some times, I feel as though I am free from all burdens.  As I sit in meditation, I realize the humility and grace I have for "God" {or that higher spiritual order to whom you may relate.  You don't have to call it God, it can be referred to by many names, but it's the Greater Energy Force beyond and behind Everything.} Humility is a bitter pill to swallow.  But, like most medications, the affect last long after the immediate discomfort.

I have no idea if what I've written tonight is of any value.  For me, however, the act of writing it was immediately rewarding.  The idea that maybe one person caught a glimmer from what I wrote is satisfying beyond measure.

Broken Heart

I recently had an experience where someone whom I trusted and opened up to totally deceived me and then abandoned me.  It wasn't easy to take.  My EGO is furious.  My EGO wants revenge.  My EGO wants to cry all the time.  My heart feels soft and wounded.  I am scared to ever try and open up again for fear of being hurt again.  It seems that I repeatedly fall into the same trap over and over again.  See Coyote post.

What sets this experience apart from others is this: he was both the "safe, adoring suitor" and the "possible rejection".  For most of my life I've had a lot of the "either-or".  When I was young, I mostly had a lot of dangerous, risk, rejection, abandoning, ridiculing, you name it.... people were not always that nice to me when I was young.  As far as I can remember, the only person I could trust was my big brother.

As I grew older I experienced a lot of safe love, but love that was deceptively safe.  They'd be there alright, but somehow withhold their affection, reject me for some flaw or hold me accountable to some mysterious standard that they even had hard times defending.  My big brother was long gone at this point, with his own adult life.  I was alone.

When I met my son's father, I had felt I had had enough of the games, the ridicule, the rejection.... I was ready for a commitment.  He seemed utterly desperate for stability.  I thought I could provide it.

Needless to say, that didn't work out very well.

As I try and wrap my mind around what happened to me in this latest love debacle, my heart keeps screaming, "Jill!!!  Wake up!!  Don't you see that YOU are the key to your own happiness???"  Sure.  I see it.  But, still, it would be really nice to share this happiness with someone that I loved and respected and that loved and respected me.

I see so many people in unhappy relationships.  I see so many odd couples.  I see my ex-husband, who, by many standards is challenging and is in a year-long relationship.  Who is this woman to put up with his aloofness?  The chaos?  His self-centered-ness?  Is she really that self-aware that she can handle it?  OMGS!?  When I say that I feel like a total loser and that I will never find someone to love me.

I really struggle with this self-love stuff.  I mean, honestly, I take good care of my self, I am pretty, athletic and I am hygienic.  I am an awesome mother.  I am better off than a great deal more of the population I see on a day to day basis, yet I struggle to find someone to treat me with respect.

Do I deserve this?  Am I destined to live this out for my entire conscious life this round?  When will I find solace in being me? And when will others see the same?  Is this my angelic story, as Neal Donald Walsh would suggest?

The weird part is that I was feeling a lot of self love at the time this man appeared into my life.  I was being totally honest with myself and I didn't yearn for love and poof! this guy appears from nowhere and pursues me hard.  I was 'going with the flow of the Universe', trusting in the goodness I had wanted.... He said things I had longed to hear.  He did things I dreamed of doing for so long.  I thought I no longer had it in me.... yet he awakened something in me I thought I had lost.  Then, as quickly as he appeared, he disappeared.  My soul seems to have been awakened from a long sleep and is a little groggy and isn't quite aware of what is going on.  Now, the absence of the admiration seems to indicate that it never happened in the first place.  The not knowing seems harder to handle.

Maybe it was only a dream.  Maybe I should look at it as if it were only a dream?

The sense of urgency to "find someone" before I am too old seems to override the sensible idea of being happy with what I have.  I then fear that I will lose what I have because I am so focused otherwise.  All this self awareness seems to only confuse my life rather than infuse it.  I wish I were ignorant, simple-minded and small.  Then maybe it wouldn't hurt as much.

I heard Indigo Girls sing once, that that "we are sculpted from youth, the chipping away makes me weary.  And as for the truth, seems like we just pick a theory..."    And I guess I thought I was changing myself with all of this self help stuff, but I think I am the same as I ever was.  Makes me think that I can't possibly surrender to the nature of it all.  Maybe I need to finally decide to let events occur without my involvement or influence and surrender to some kind of "Joan of Arc" experience.  Are those even available in this day and age?  And if so, do I really want that?

This idea of surrendering to a higher power seem to sound like defeat.  Maybe it's grace.  I am not sure.  But, honestly, I have not much fight left in me.  Today, I feel like sharing that I am lost and confused.  I am sad and angry.  I am falling apart.  And I am ok with it.  Because I have no other choice.  You know, it hit me as I was writing this; I am not going to change.  No one changes.  It's rather our perception of the world that changes.   And that, somehow, in some small, quiet space inside of me, is reassuring.

And that makes me remember the either-or thing.... one instructor recently said that Ego believes in Either-Or while Spirit believes in And-Both.  I like that sort of thinking.  So, while for now I feel like I am stuck with either being alone and happy or with someone and sad; maybe Spirit is awakening me to a new reality of being in love with myself and being wholly loved as myself too!

Roots Final Conclusions

I have been humbled in a recent life event that has left me questioning, why?  Why me?  What did I do to deserve this?  How did I manifest this?  And it’s got me kind of fearful to even think at all because I am terrified of what will happen next.  During the last ten weeks I’ve been faced with a few chaotic occurrences which leave me questioning my faith.  I read or heard somewhere recently that chaos heralds major shifts or changes.  I remain fearful insomuch that such change will fail to result in “goodness” rather than more struggle.  It’s like I’m ducking and hunching over in fear, aching with expectation of more bludgeoning, more loss, more rejection, more abandonment, more stress.   I’ve lost sight of reality.  The shadows on the wall appear grotesquely huge, inhuman and otherworldly.  I am surely suffering a panic attack because the Ego lost out over what it so desired.  My vanity is exposed.  My vulnerable soft-under belly is sore and calloused with past hurts. My story repetitiously replays in my head, numbing any sensation of truth.  Where do I go from here?

Onward.  Into my Castle.  For here in this worldly realm, our greatest challenge lies in accepting that there is no evil, no matter, no absence of life, substance or intelligence.  There is nothing to hate.  There is no sin, sickness or death.  Undressing in the deep chambers of my Soul, I become humbled and humiliated in my vanity.  All there is for me to see and know is the truth that I certainly do not know anything other than “knowing all things and doing all things, I am independent of all things.  I am absolutely free.”  I am the observer of that which I am and yet, I experience and embody this moment fully in my being.  Choosing to suffer and replay old tragedies does me no good other than to keep me mired in self-pity and self righteousness.  This is not spirituality.  This is narcissism.

I find it illuminating how close self-awareness and spirituality come towards the edge of narcissism.  One quick slip of the wrist, the thought, the mind, the heart and poof! You have gone off the map of your good into the choppy waters of self-indulgent thinking that can overpower the ideas of unity and oneness and become a vicious vice for addiction and self-deprecation.

So, I believe I can say with purity of spirit, that I understand I cannot will outcomes on the “patient nor against evil, nor for Good.  I may only tell the truth about God.  The Truth is its own will.”  Surrendering to the power and presence of God within and all around me is a humbling experience.  One that my Ego certainly resists with great fervor.   My imperfection is my perfection.  My humanness is my innocence.  My struggle is my freedom (when I finally lay down my arms and bear witness to the fact that it is I that I am fighting).

So, yearning for possessions, for romance, for peace, for truth, for understanding, for partnership, recognition, safety, love; these are all things that I can find inside of my soul.  As Rumi said, “Friend, our closeness is this.  Anywhere you put your foot feel me in the firmness under you.  How is it with this love, I see your world and not you?”  Seeing passed the yearnings and looking beyond the veil, the truth lies in wait.  Do I have the courage to claim it?

Dolly Parton said, "Storms make trees take stronger roots." I remember in one class I used the analogy of a tree in our discussion to make a case that trees don't fret about when to flush their leaves or when to bloom.  They just do it.  And as I weather the storms of life, I seek to find an equilibrium where the highs and lows, the light and the dark, the high winds and the calm silence become my norm.

I have these words floating around my head: vanity, vulnerability and rejection and I find it appealing that each definition brings me closer to the shift that was inevitable to unfold.  Vanity's definition starts with excessive pride and ends with worthlessness.  Vulnerability is defined as  being susceptible to physical or emotional injury.  And finally, rejection is the turning away from... and I just find pure irony in that in order to heal the pain I feel, I must turn away from that which isn't the truth.

As I move forward on my journey, I recognize my divinity.  I realize my truth.  I accept this truth as the truth of ALL.  I am grateful for my life.  I surrender these words to the magical, mystery of the LAW.  And so it is.

And so it is....

As a student of Science of Mind, Religious Science, I am learning so much about the process of manifestation.  And, isn't that what we are all searching for?  How to make real our dreams?  I recently sat down with our Reverend and ask these very questions.  "How do I stay on track, get what I want out of life and still be 'virtuous'?"  She smiled sweetly and sort of laughed.  The truth, she advanced and I caught, almost immediately as the words first came out of my mouth, were rather simple, yet not so easy to attain.
"Just believe it".

I've been watching Rio with my son lately and there is a similar thread of process.  Believe and you will be free.  All the mystics I've been reading lately say the same thing: believe, in your heart of hearts, don't let Ego Mind infiltrate, stay in the present, trust and surrender to "GOD" {insert your accepted term here} and you will find the freedom you were seeking.  Because, one book said that, and I sort of believe, that we only suffer from the symptoms of our disbelief not the actual disbelief.  The actual disbelief is nothing more than a construct of the Ego Mind attempting to retain control over its own existence in your life.

So, with weight loss, for instance.  It is so easy to become swept up in the hype of fad diets, magic pills, extreme measures (both dietary and physical alterations) thinking that your reality can be altered from the material plane.  I don't know what to say about this.  I've been athletic my whole life.  I weigh the most now that I have ever weighed in my life.  It's not an easy thing to surrender to.  I've struggled on the material plane to alter my current physical state with little luck.

Someone mentioned that it could be energetic.  Maybe diet pills and extra laps around the track won't suffice.  It's a matter of some greater, deeper, struggle that my Ego Mind and my heart, my true self, must finally reconcile.  This seems to be a diet of negative words, negative actions (poor diet and bad habits) and negative fear (believing I will never find my perfect form, shape or condition).    

So, now, with a full and open heart I am working on the belief that I am in perfect form, shape and condition NOW.  Not after the diet pills take effect, not after I run 100 miles, not after I have surgery.... NOW.

So I let it be, just as it is, knowing it is perfect, AND SO IT IS.

Self Knowing

For most of the last week dualities presented themselves to me in the most mundane of circumstances.  In my 5 Gifts class one student asked where "Good" and "Evil" lie within the "Eternal Oneness of God".  Conversations played out with my girlfriends about how boyfriends do this "wrong" and why can't they just get it "right".  There was the slightly passive tone in a family member's email suggesting how I have let them down.  Or the way a colleague expressed dismay when I tried to help out with a project in which they had wanted to take the lead and I felt like I had overstepped my bounds.

All of these situations prompted waves of guilt and feelings of "un-deservedness" and as I began my homework for my Roots class, reading Emmerson with a sense of resignation, the pages reflected back to me My Truth.  An inner knowing reached up from the inner shadows of my heart to confirm that "my life is not an apology but a life" and should I choose to "believe my own thoughts, what is true for me, in my heart; this, is genius."  So, whether or not It was always there and I have feigned to recognize It, or It appeared as a teacher for this week, no matter.  Self Knowing is Mine and Mine Alone.

Emmerson writes that the rule of wisdom is to never "rely on memory alone but bring it to judgement into 1000-eyed present."  I am aware of how often I live in the present moment burdened with my past hurts.  I find myself again and again emptying the contents of my baggage for others to bear witness to, as if to attempt to vindicate my behaviors or even my current state of existence. I know that it is my innocent way of trying to explain myself, yet he writes, "to be great, is to be misunderstood" and I always resist the idea that I am great.

I think, in the end, when we do find courage to bring our thoughts out of the dark recesses of our hidden chambers, from deep within the fear-laden lair of the Ego Mind, we can see them for what they really are; which is to know them for our own thoughts, from our hearts, which is, in so many ways, the Mind of God. In fact, Ernest Holmes says, in the Science of Mind, that If God is all there is, then past, present, and future -- time experience, and form -- if they exist at all, must exist as some part of the Truth.  If this Truth is all there is, we also must be included in It and we should identify ourselves with It.  Thus, the Allness of Truth automatically includes the Reality of our own being.

And so it is.