tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59310414769652217632024-03-14T08:56:03.022-04:00Shades of PurpleA place for one woman to explore the world she has created and the endless possibilities at her fingertipsUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5931041476965221763.post-33534276203288192612015-06-16T14:26:00.000-04:002015-06-17T09:43:48.122-04:00If I Really Wanted To I CouldI did the "I Should" exercise yesterday. Today the exercise is to expand on those statements and instead of "I Should" use "If I Really Wanted To, I Could". Then you ask the tough question, "Why Haven't You?" Again, I'm typing out the question and answering it as I create this post. <br />
<br />
<b>If I really wanted to, I could be good with money and spend it only on things that are important and useful.</b> <br />
<br />
Why Haven't You?<br />
<br />
I want to spend some money on things that bring me joy. Why should I deprive myself? It's too hard and nearly impossible to save money. <br />
<br />
<b>If I really wanted to, I could be happily married and have no conflicts with my spouse. </b><br />
<br />
I'm afraid of getting hurt. I don't want to be abandoned. Compromise is hard.<br />
<br />
<b>If I really wanted to, I could be thin and perfect.</b> <br />
<br />
It's never enough. I'll never be perfect enough. I try and I try, but I never can lose the weight. <br />
<br />
<b>If I really wanted to, I could have a perfectly clean house where there is no clutter.</b><br />
<br />
I'd rather be doing something else. If I want it messy, it will be messy. <br />
<br />
<b>If I really wanted to, I could be a model employee who does everything perfectly, never takes time off and never makes mistakes. </b><br />
<br />
I'm a pretty good employee and work hard. Mistakes happen but they scare me. I don't want to disappoint my boss or get into trouble. <br />
<br />
<b>If I really wanted to, I could always be happy, have no problems, never cry or feel angry and I must be perfect in order to be lovable.</b><br />
<br />
I try but I never seem to get it right. I'm always screwing it up. <br />
<br />
What strikes me immediately is how young I sound. Like a child that is helpless and scared. The "should" answers seem to parrot some outside authority, not my own beliefs or opinions. The programming started at an early age. According to the book, there should be some relief but I don't exactly feel relief. I think that some of the original "shoulds" aren't exactly horrible things to believe in (mindful of money use, healthy body, tidy home) but the beliefs behind them are twisted and not my own. <br />
<br />
I've re-read my responses again and I can now hear the rational mature adult that is me. It's like there is a tug-of-war - me vs old programming. No wonder I feel confused all the time!<br />
<br />
According to Louise, the problem should begin to shift. The process has been started of releasing the feelings of "being wrong" because they are not fitting someone else's standards. I hope this is true. I don't feel like skipping through a field of wildflowers feeling light and airy but certainly it is good to clarify some of the self-talk behind some of these beliefs. <br />
<br />
I am incredibly hard on myself. I set impossible standards that set me up for failure time and again. My mother was this way. I think she set her own high standards as a distraction to whatever her demons were. And like mother, like daughter. I learned well. <br />
<br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5931041476965221763.post-84715557911671746712015-06-16T11:37:00.000-04:002015-06-16T11:37:31.277-04:00I ShouldI am doing an exercise from Louise Hay's book "You Can Heal Your Life". It's entitled "I Should". You are to write that on top of a piece of paper, write 5-6 ways to finish the sentence. Then ask "why?" after each one. Here are my answers:<br />
<br />
<b>I should be good with money and spend it only on things that are important and useful. </b><br />
<br />
Why?<br />
<br />
Because you may lose your job, house, family etc. and you will be prepared in case of emergency. And spending it on things that are not necessities is extravagant and wasteful. <br />
<br />
<b>I should be happily married and have no conflicts with my spouse.</b> <br />
<br />
Why?<br />
<br />
Because to be married means you are valid, safe, happy and doing what is expected of you. You're supposed to be married and if you aren't there is something wrong with you. <br />
<br />
<b>I should be thin and perfect.</b> <br />
<br />
Why?<br />
<br />
Because as a woman I am to look good for other people. It's healthy and if I'm fat I will die prematurely and painfully. <br />
<br />
<b>I should have a perfectly clean house where there is no clutter.</b> <br />
<br />
Why?<br />
<br />
Because other people shouldn't see mess. Clean and orderly means you are clean and orderly. We must appear perfect to other people. <br />
<br />
<b>I should be a model employee who does everything perfectly, never takes time off and never makes mistakes.</b> <br />
<br />
Why?<br />
<br />
Because I should not disappoint those in authority and who are paying me. I should be grateful I have a job at all. <br />
<br />
<b>I should always be happy, have no problems, never cry or feel angry and I must be perfect in order to be lovable.</b> <br />
<br />
Why? <br />
<br />
Because I won't be a bother to anyone. I won't take up space, burden anyone with my problems, and I should be grateful I'm allowed to take up any space at all. In order to be loved and be acceptable, I must make everyone happy. <br />
<br />
<br />
I wrote my responses to the "Why?" question as I wrote this entry and well, I'm a bit disturbed. These came from my upbringing, in one shape or another. I don't think some of these were told to me directly but this was what I learned growing up. This was the best I could do with what I had. And now, for 45 years, this has been the way I have lived my life. To say the least, I have made things rather difficult for myself. <br />
<br />
It feels like an insurmountable task to take these beliefs and shift them to something that is true, positive and uplifting. A daunting task, to be sure. However I don't think I can avoid this anymore. I don't think I can have a life of contentment, joy and usefulness if these things are not addressed. <br />
<br />
Can I do it. I have to. I don't think I have a choice anymore. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5931041476965221763.post-85309708463454815602013-08-03T20:34:00.000-04:002013-08-03T20:34:17.131-04:00The Sun is Peeking OutThe water is beating up against the wall<br />
The sun is bursting behind the shutters<br />
The light of Life is trying to get through, ever present<br />
Looking for cracks and crevices to slip through<br />
Illuminating and energizing<br />
Ensuring that breathing continues<br />
<br />
More and more, each day, those secret passages<br />
Through dark tunnels and recesses<br />
Grow bigger and wider<br />
Allowing the light to show the way<br />
Corners are revealed<br />
Boxes finally opened<br />
Puzzles completed<br />
<br />
Isolation lessens as the birds begin to flock<br />
In trees and bushes<br />
Gossiping and commiserating<br />
The days adventures recalled<br />
<br />
Eyes see the wheat from the chaff<br />
Ears hear the subtelties and subtext<br />
Senses are electrified by the ripples<br />
Of emotions and intentions<br />
The seed is finally sprouting and<br />
Opening its leaves to the sun<br />
<br />
The heart beats in anticipation of new<br />
And upcoming adventures<br />
And all will be experienced <br />
From top to toes<br />
Tasted, felt, seen, remembered<br />
<br />
A body long neglected slowly moves<br />
Clearing cobwebs, disturbing dust<br />
Joints are oiled and losing their rust<br />
And movement once again is a joy<br />
<br />
Appreciation, balance, joy, trust<br />
Release, reach, stretch, imagine<br />
The sun is allowed back in<br />
Worthiness realized<br />
Love of self begins<br />
<br />
It is a joyous day, a joyous month, a joyous year<br />
Fireworks light the sky<br />
As the celebration begins<br />
Enjoy the fruits of courage and hard work<br />
Let the party beginUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5931041476965221763.post-74566889649556100372013-07-31T10:13:00.003-04:002013-07-31T10:15:23.799-04:00Crumbling into Dust2011 was an "interesting" year, to say the least. For Christmas, I even created for my family t-shirts that had "I survived 2011" printed on them. <br />
<br />
My mom unexpectedly died in November of 2010. My father was having chemo treatments at the time. The cancer in his lungs, because of other health issues, was not operated on and was not doing anything until the doctors noticed it had started growing again in the fall of 2010. I remember in the haze of it all to having to schedule his chemo treatment around Mom's funeral. It all seemed so ridiculous and overwhelming. <br />
<br />
My poor dad. I can still picture the bewildered look on his face in those few weeks around the funeral. He hadn't (and honestly my sisters hadn't either) expected that my mother would go first. And he was alone, for the first time in 54 years. In the house they had shared together for nearly as long. I was able to help him close up Mom's estate (I was named Executrix for both of them) but I couldn't help him with their daily bills. Dad seemed to pick it up pretty quickly but my mother had done the budgeting and finances their whole married life. <br />
<br />
As the reality of Mom's passing came over me, I immediately started to freak out about my dad. Her death hit him hard and slowed down any healing and recovery from his own health issues. My sisters and I had never seen him look more feeble. However, he had fought cancer a few times already; was he going to win this round too? No one knew and the reality that I could lose both of my parents in a year hit home very very hard. January through March or April was a blur. Between checking in and caring for Dad and grieving, I don't remember much except a lot of emotional pain that was so deep it was physical. I fought to not grieve for them both, but it happened anyway. I struggled because I didn't want to spend whatever time I had with Dad with grieving. I had the chance to have quality time and I was afraid of losing that. But the pain at times was so excruciating I didn't know if I was going to have a mental breakdown. <br />
<br />
Then one evening I partook in a psychic fair (I don't think I was reading but helped organize it). I was washed out, dragged out and hung to dry. I sought out my friend Jennifer, who is an amazing psychic. I asked if she could give me a tarot reading to help guide me and help me find a saner place in life. As I talked to her, I broke down for the billionth time (I was crying so much around that time my cheeks were getting raw from the tears). Jen all of sudden said "Your mom is here". <br />
<br />
This was something pretty new to Jen; channeling those who had passed was something she had only begun to experience and had not really worked out what she wanted to do when a spirit contacted her. Going with her gut, she began to speak for my mother. I don't remember it all, but I do remember a tremendous sense of peace and relief slowly washing over me that felt so so good. We talked about forgiveness, unconditional love and that she was so happy where she was. We talked about Dad and my sisters. I apologized for not being a good daughter and she apologized for not always being the best mother. My body began to relax and feel so much lighter, lighter than it had felt in months. I began to let go. <br />
<br />
With the exception of my grandmother dying in 2004 I had not experienced any major loss before then. I had not really examined what I felt about death. It scared me and it was something scary and to avoid at all costs. This experience has laid the groundwork for acceptance. This is still an ongoing process but I feel I am further along than I used to be. Thanks Mom.<br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5931041476965221763.post-58032115906700709092013-07-18T10:57:00.001-04:002013-07-31T10:15:47.467-04:00It's Okay, You Must Be So TiredI haven't posted in few years (gulp!). So much has happened it is a bit mind-boggling. I will be documenting, post by post, the events that have rocked my world these last few years.<br />
<br />
Christmas Eve 2009 I gathered with my family at my sister's house. Our mother, who suffered serious back issues coupled with arthritis, was losing her mobility and becoming stooped. She showed us her lower legs and it was horrifying - they were "weeping" fluid and the skin was red, scaly and blotchy. She had gone to the doctors and it was linked to congestive heart failure. The excess fluid had no place to go so it came out through the pores of her skin. <br />
<br />
To clarify, I had a distant relationship with both parents for the sake of my sanity. I had learned a long time ago that I could not get the support and love I wanted, on a consistent basis, without extreme emotional pain. She was judgmental, dismissive and rather unkind a lot of the time. She began to display signs of mentally illness in my early 20's and refused to get help. Honestly was she ill long before then? I don't know. The things she said and did I guess were based from this, but there were times there was such clarity that I still don't know where they came from. As a result I kept my distance because the alternative would have sent me to a mental institution. <br />
<br />
In the summer of 2010 things were getting worse for Mom. She was in constant pain, she was experiencing a lot of anxiety and she was slowly no longer capable of caring for her personal hygiene. She sat all the time. Moving was torture as her back had deteriorated further. She was giving up. We all tried to come to my parent's aid (by this time my Dad, who had a cancerous tumor on his lungs) was taking care of most household duties and was feeling helpless. Mom was fighting us on getting any kind of help; however we finally were able to get her to a pulmonologist about her legs, which had continued, on and off, to weep all year. We also were trying to get her to see a therapist because she was experiencing anxiety, depression and delusions. It was such a scary time. <br />
<br />
We finally got her to agree to see a therapist. In September 2010 I drove to the doctor's office to meet them (my sisters and I were beginning to insist coming along to any doctor appointments so we knew what was going on). I see my parents in the parking lot, my father standing by the car looking angry while my mother, distressed, was sitting in the passenger seat. She could not breathe and my dad thought she was having an anxiety attack about the appointment. They had called an ambulance, which arrived a few minutes after I had gotten there. They took her to the emergency room. <br />
<br />
Her body had a tremendous amount of fluid due to congestive heart failure and they sedated her because she kept ripping out the tubes they had inserted to help her breathe. This turned into a 2 week stint in the ICU as the doctors tried to stabilize the fluid and regulate her heart. She was sedated for most of that time. <br />
<br />
She stayed about a month in the hospital. In the meantime we learned that my Dad's cancer was showing signs of growth and he began chemo treatment. My sisters' and I spent that September and October running between the hospital and the chemo place. It was exhausting. <br />
<br />
Mom was not really getting better. She was transferred to a nursing facility for long term recovery but it was clear to us that she would likely never come home and spend the rest of her days in a nursing home. She was also being treated for mental health issues at this time. She would stabilize, and then have to go back to the hospital when the fluid got out of control. During this time Mom was semi-conscious and not very alert.<br />
<br />
She stayed in two different facilities between hospital stays; the first one was under-staffed with horrible conditions. When she went back to the hospital we insisted she not return there. The second facility was near my house in East Greenbush. It was much nicer, cleaner and the staff more attentive. We were relieved and knew this was a good place for her. <br />
<br />
3 days into her stay, on November 13, 2010, we got a call that she was once again sent to the hospital. I took my time getting there as this was becoming routine. However, when I got there I knew almost immediately that this time was different. The ER doctor came out to see us and told us that it was not looking good. They tried to resuscitate her at the facility and on the way there (this was a different hospital than the usual and they had no DNR on file). She was puffed up like a balloon with excess fluid and she was not breathing. They could not bring her back and my dad said she could be let go. There was no further need to bring her back because she was gone. <br />
<br />
While it may appear to an outsider that this was not outside the realm of possibility, to us it was like a bomb went off. For a long time we were so focused on my dad, who had been fighting lung cancer for 5 or 6 years and had thought that of the two my dad was the one "to go" first. I don't think we had conceived the idea that Mom was so close to the end. She had always been so strong. <br />
<br />
In the last few years I had been making strides with making peace with her, knowing she did the best she was capable of and that I needed to accept her as she was. When she died I think that while I grieved a part of me had said goodbye a while ago. <br />
<br />
She was a good person who was handed a lot of challenges early in life. She made a life the best she knew how and raised a beautiful family. She loved to read, play cards, and bake. She had a big uproarious laugh and she gave big strong hugs that could crush you. She taught us hard work and perseverance. She was my Mom.<br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5931041476965221763.post-73814114263865324912010-02-03T18:06:00.005-05:002013-07-31T10:16:06.182-04:00Dear AndrewI lost a friend a few weeks ago. It was sudden, unexpected and shocking. One evening he decided to exit the world on his terms, by his hand. <br />
<br />
I liked Andrew a lot. He was cheerful, sunny, very smart and generous. He was always so pleasant to be around, and he always had a joke to share. He had a very sharp and witty sense of humor that didn't aim to hurt. He knew the hard knocks of life and savored every last bit of it. So why did he choose to leave so early?<br />
<br />
I don't know. It can be said that it was just his time, that this was part of the big plan. I (and many of our mutual friends) were not aware of the dark thoughts that obviously plagued his mind. He hid this all very well, hiding in this darkness and witnessing whatever demons visited him. <br />
<br />
I wish I could have comforted him. I wish I could have told him it was going to be ok. I wish I could have said or do something that perhaps could have given him pause. <br />
<br />
Andrew's leaving really brought home to me that death is not what is scary, but what is left behind. I truly believe that wherever he is, he has a smile on his face, a beer and cigar in his hand and tapping his feet to some Irish music. However, for those left behind, there is confusion, sorrow, bewilderment and anger. <br />
<br />
As with death, it is the living that the funeral is really for. We often turn our thoughts inward, wondering if we can live without their smile, their presence. Let's face it: we are self-centered creatures. We make it about us. In situations like Andrew's, it often makes you think about those times when living wasn't such an enjoyable idea. When you thought that things would be so much better, that the pain would finally go away, if you could just end it. Just leave it all behind. I have thought it often in my life; not necessarily leaving permently but simply wanting to curl up and leave for awhile, escaping life's pain. <br />
<br />
I miss him. I miss his sunshine. I don't know all that was going on in his mind and I am sorry he felt this was the way to go. Who knows, maybe it was. I hope it didn't hurt, I hope he felt some degree of relief once he made his decision and I hope he now free.<br />
<br />
Andrew, I salute you. It was an honor knowing you.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5931041476965221763.post-37035257676924330672009-12-23T13:24:00.001-05:002009-12-23T13:24:54.557-05:00Holiday DazeWow, did this holiday season fly by, on wings coated with jagged ice and with a swiftness of tidal wave. I admit that it took me off guard. As a result I felt rushed this month, scurrying around to complete my holiday shopping, baking and other holiday-related projects. I started to take on the look and demeanor of one who breaks rocks all day, dragging the rubble from one place to another, the weight of the world literally on their shoulders. I became miserable. <br /><br />Why? I guess I took on too much. I thought I could take on the Herculean task of baking dozens of cookies, shop for several people, wrap it all and participate in several holiday gatherings without any affect on my energy. I believe I miscalculated my energy reserves. <br /><br />Quickly the panic came over me, as its shadow overtook me, my anger and frustration grew. My poor boyfriend, who takes a more relaxed approach to this time of year, became the focus for much of my ire. Why did he leave that sock on the floor? Why is he in the bathroom when I really need to use it? Why isn’t he helping me? This aggravation spread towards my co-workers, neighbors and even other drivers. Slow down! Speed up! I need that answer now!<br /><br />While no one person is perfect, I believe my expectations for the world were rather ambitious. Of course, I am forgetting my biggest target, my self. <br /><br />The wrapping is done. The cookies are all baked. There are a few more parties to attend. The apartment is slowly coming back together, recovering from the whirlwind of these last few weeks of activity. And I have finally had time to think. <br /><br />The biggest, of course, is why do this to myself? I guess because I believe I would be disappointing people. That is something I truly fear. People expect things of me and if I don’t come through, that is it, it is all over. <br /><br />As I think, grow and travel, I am beginning to see the faulty thinking behind this. And while it is easy to beat myself up over that, I realize that that too, is an old pattern with faulty thinking. So I have decided to let it all go. <br /><br />So what will I do for next year? Enjoy the snow, sip some hot cocoa and watch the annual madness from a distance.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5931041476965221763.post-92216194950497040742009-10-30T14:37:00.001-04:002009-10-30T14:39:25.849-04:00On the Way to Shangri-LaRough waters. Spinning in circles. Rumbling earthquakes shaking the ground. My existence the last few weeks has resembled these metaphors. <br /><br />Ever since I have been working steadily with the Law of Attraction I have been almost hyper aware of my feelings. In turn, I have become more aware of the thoughts that run through my mind. Needless to say there have been times lately that I feel I have been knee-deep in muck. <br /><br />I have always been sensitive. Since I was a little girl I learned to gauge a room and measure the mood of the occupants. I knew when I could relax and when I needed to tippy-toe and be quiet. I had to do a lot of tippy-toeing as a kid, suppressing a lot of who I was in order to survive. To survive meant to be unseen and unheard, left alone. <br /><br />I developed many rules internally that served me at the time, accomplishing the task of survival. Those beliefs and skills lost their usefulness as an adult, but unfortunately I wasn’t aware of this. I shielded myself from all sorts of experiences, experiences that could have led me down a completely different path. A path of adventure, discovery and daring. <br /><br />Such is life. It is never too late to start down that path. However, my inner “Committee”, the entity that regulated my “protection” is having a hard time adjusting to a more open attitude about life. The reigns are being tugged like those on a wild horse; hard and often. “You can’t do that.” “The only way to be happy is…”. “You’ll never amount to much, don’t try to go beyond your comfort zone.” “You’re stupid.” As I reach for another source of direction (My Inner Self) the Internal Committee has been called to action, fighting for its place as the dominant guide in my life. <br /><br />I find it funny that at times, even when it hurts, hurts so bad, it feels somewhat comforting to fall back into old ways of thinking. At least it is familiar. I know what to expect. The dull ache of defeat is like an old friend. <br /><br />Yet I persist. Every day I try to delve headfirst into the calm waters of my Inner Self. I cutely call it marinating. I want to let it soak into my bones, into the fibers of my existence until it completely replaces those old habits of thought. I make <a href="http://todayiappreciate.com/">appreciation lists</a>, thanking the Gods for all that I have, all the abundance that is in my life. <br /><br />This strange calm has taken hold of my spirit the last few days. I say strange because frankly it is a rather uncommon feeling. I haven’t developed a sense of well-being per se, where I trust completely the path I trod. But I don’t suffer the old messages either. It is like a place in between, where I am on the other side of a hellish experience but have not yet reached the beautiful oasis that is on my map. The road is a little foggy but I think I have the tools to see my way clear.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5931041476965221763.post-51182477920096059092009-10-19T15:42:00.001-04:002009-10-19T15:42:31.803-04:00Believing vs KnowingI'm still reading Mr. Dyer and have come across the section where he talks about distinguishing between believing and knowing. Believing is quite often based on some other person's dictums, while knowing comes from within our being, our gut. The source of the former does not have any organic connection that the latter possesses which begs the question: Why do we allow it to guide us in this life?<br /><br />To me, beliefs are pretty sneaky things that plant themselves in our psyche.<br /><br />I have asked my self what Beliefs do I hold and whether they are true. Among these beliefs are that I have a weight problem because I’m lazy, that I’m not very smart, that I missed my “time” to succeed in life and that I am bad with money. <br /><br />Are any of these sweeping pronouncements the truth? I would say no; it is crap told to me at some point that I chose to believe. I can’t recall exact moments when these beliefs were planted; there was no fanfare, no fireworks. They just slunk in, shoulders hunched, slipping in with the shadows. They met up with my Internal Critic and they blossomed. As they took root, they quietly became part of the fabric of my life. They just “were”. <br /><br />What is “Knowing”? I spell it with a capitol “K” because I am coming to believe that Knowing is connected to our Inner Voice. It is when we quiet down and listen to this Voice that we create the path to Knowing. The conflict occurs when the Knowings come in contact with the Beliefs. <br /><br />According to the Law of Attraction, we use our emotions as an inner guide to achieve what we want (and really, what we need) in this life. When we have that everything-is-alright-in-the-world feeling, we are matching the vibration of our Inner Voice. When we feel otherwise (sad, scared, confused) we are not. I have come to find that there are these little skirmishes occurring within when I seek to follow my inner guide. <br /><br />Beliefs don’t like it when we don’t believe in them anymore. They do put up a fight when we choose to listen within and not to them. Why is this? I am unsure about this. I wonder if it is a part of us that seeks to “protect” us from things that are unknown. At some point, those beliefs served a role in our lives. Good or bad, they did. Quite often, they outlive their purpose. <br /><br />My beliefs are kicking up a fuss a good deal lately. I am holding on, though. I had a dream last night that has really given me a boost. My dream has other components that I can’t remember, but at the culmination I was hugging a seal with such love and I remember feeling such comfort. I looked up the meaning and it I found the Seal, as an animal spirit guide, means listening to the inner voice! How cool is that???Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5931041476965221763.post-15182489952611166082009-10-12T17:55:00.005-04:002009-10-12T18:41:59.706-04:00Fakin' ItToday I am faking it. Faking that there is endless possibilities out there for me. Faking that I feel happiness and joy and that this is all going to go well for me. I hold onto this feigned sense of contentment with my nails digging into it, clinging for dear life. <br /><br />My "Emotional Guidance System"'s alarms have been going off for a few days now, especially when I think about my work life. It appears that my thoughts are not in alignment with what I really want. So I look up to the figurative blue sky, squint my eyes in the imaginary sun and pull myself up by the bootstraps. I am free, I chant, I am free. I own my power. The most important thing today is that I feel good. <br /><br />There are days that I feel that true sense of joy, happiness, contentment. I savor them, roll them around on my tongue and bank them away for future use. For days like today. I recreate those feelings of elation, knowing that it is going to be okay, even if I don't exactly feel it. <br /><br />As the day has worn on, there are a few glimmers of genuine sunshine coming through. I hold onto these, reveling in the loosening of that hard knot in my belly. As I was told by Ellie, I close in on the feeling, recognize it for what it is, let it go and state "I am in the process". I need to let go and let the Universe flow through me and guide me. <br /><br />I want a job I love. I want a lot of money to enjoy. I want to have fun every day. I want to experience great love with my boyfriend, friends and family. <br /><br />And as I ask, so it is granted...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5931041476965221763.post-26556391506729970392009-10-04T22:48:00.002-04:002009-10-04T22:54:02.907-04:00Down The Winding PathThe following poem was one I wrote as an offering to the Goddess for my initiation:<br /><br /><br />Down the Winding Path<br /><br />Winding, dancing to her own rhythm<br />She came<br /><br />Her beauty so pure<br />Her regal form, the color of dusk<br />Glistened in the waning sun<br /><br />Arriving from the West<br />Leaving the Darkness<br />Flowing to the East<br />Rising to the next beginning<br />She moved<br /><br />Words could not express <br />The humbling awe that overcame me<br /><br />She grabs my spirit<br />And thunders her presence<br />I AM SHE<br /><br />The obsidian eyes turn to me<br />Startled, I saw myself<br />Reflected in her gaze<br /><br />You are me<br />I am you<br />I dwell within<br />At the crossroads of heaven and hell<br /><br />I am always with you<br />I will never leave<br />Even when you return to the Earth<br /><br />She slithered away<br />Slowly disappearing into the growth<br />Gone as quickly as she came<br />The Universe she leaves in her wakeUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5931041476965221763.post-78481826050328175562009-10-01T11:42:00.003-04:002009-10-02T22:05:06.918-04:00InitiationI haven't posted in a while. I have been so busy with so many different things that unfortunately this blog has been a bit neglected. I hope that once the dust clears I can return to more regular posting.<br /><br />Tomorrow morning I will be initiated as a priestess of the Fellowship of Isis. Lady Olivia Robertson, co-founder of the organization, will be present when Mary, my teacher, friend and mentor, welcomes me into the fold. My boyfriend, coven and a good friend and mentor will also be present.<br /><br />When I started this particular journey I did not expect the changes and experiences that have come out of this pursuit. I thought I had done enough soul searching and exploration of the psyche to breeze through but the Gods had other plans. I went even further into myself (with additional help from Ellie and LOA) and I must say I feel kinda beat up. I have cried several times this week. I am emotional, tense and ready to give birth - just as Mary said we would! I thought the birth analogy she applied to our 9 month class (duh) had no effect, but again, I was wrong!<br /><br />Anyway, I have already met Olivia and she is a lovely and tiny 92 year old woman with much humor and insight. I had the pleasure of being told that she thought I was very beautiful, which of course made me cry. As Mary said, the Goddess sent me what I needed. I have been feeling less than attractive of late and rather down on myself. That little boost felt good at a particularly low point.<br /><br />It is supposed to rain tomorrow so the ceremony may take place in Mary's beautiful and rambling farm house. I have the dress, jewels, crown, cloak and wand all ready. I feel as if I am about to enter something that will be with me for the rest of my life. I take this commitment very seriously and I believe the Goddess does too. While I may have challenges thrown my way, deep down I know I can handle it.<br /><br />I will post soon with a report on the ceremony. Hurrah!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5931041476965221763.post-23734807087316960182009-09-09T14:05:00.007-04:002009-10-19T15:41:40.148-04:00Believing vs KnowingI'm still reading Mr. Dyer and have come across the section where he talks about distinguishing between believing and knowing. Believing is quite often based on some other person's dictums, while knowing comes from within our being, our gut. The source of the former does not have any organic connection that the latter possesses which begs the question: Why do we allow it to guide us in this life?<br /><br />To me, beliefs are pretty sneaky things that plant themselves in our psyche.<br /><br />I have asked my self what Beliefs do I hold and whether they are true. Among these beliefs are that I have a weight problem because I’m lazy, that I’m not very smart, that I missed my “time” to succeed in life and that I am bad with money. <br /><br />Are any of these sweeping pronouncements the truth? I would say no; it is crap told to me at some point that I chose to believe. I can’t recall exact moments when these beliefs were planted; there was no fanfare, no fireworks. They just slunk in, shoulders hunched, slipping in with the shadows. They met up with my Internal Critic and they blossomed. As they took root, they quietly became part of the fabric of my life. They just “were”. <br /><br />What is “Knowing”? I spell it with a capitol “K” because I am coming to believe that Knowing is connected to our Inner Voice. It is when we quiet down and listen to this Voice that we create the path to Knowing. The conflict occurs when the Knowings come in contact with the Beliefs. <br /><br />According to the Law of Attraction, we use our emotions as an inner guide to achieve what we want (and really, what we need) in this life. When we have that everything-is-alright-in-the-world feeling, we are matching the vibration of our Inner Voice. When we feel otherwise (sad, scared, confused) we are not. I have come to find that there are these little skirmishes occurring within when I seek to follow my inner guide. <br /><br />Beliefs don’t like it when we don’t believe in them anymore. They do put up a fight when we choose to listen within and not to them. Why is this? I am unsure about this. I wonder if it is a part of us that seeks to “protect” us from things that are unknown. At some point, those beliefs served a role in our lives. Good or bad, they did. Quite often, they outlive their purpose. <br /><br />My beliefs are kicking up a fuss a good deal lately. I am holding on, though. I had a dream last night that has really given me a boost. My dream has other components that I can’t remember, but at the culmination I was hugging a seal with such love and I remember feeling such comfort. I looked up the meaning and it I found the Seal, as an animal spirit guide, means listening to the inner voice! How cool is that???Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5931041476965221763.post-45233284930426227642009-09-06T17:46:00.002-04:002009-09-06T18:18:37.194-04:00PUSHI read a book this morning called "Push: A Novel" by Sapphire. I saw it on the best seller list on Amazon and was intrigued by the story. I was able to borrow it from the library and was surprised that, for a book written in 1997, it would have a relatively long wait. When I finally read it, I realized why.<br /><br />"Push: A Novel" is brutalizing, grotesque, shocking, uplifting and luminous, all in one volume. It is the story of a girl, Clareece Precious Jones, a 16 year old girl living in Harlem and pregnant with her second child. The father of both children is her father. He has been raping her since she was 6. Her mother, a grotesque woman in many layers of denial, is abusive towards Precious, calling her a harlot and a 'ho because she stole her man. STOLE her man; the man who is raping their daughter. She lives on welfare, never leaving the house and torments Precious with mental, physical and sexual abuse. Yes, this poor girl is sexually assaulted by both parents.<br /><br />"Sometimes I wish I was not alive," Precious says. "But I don't know how to die. Ain' no plug to pull out. 'N no matter how bad I feel my heart don't stop beating and my eyes open in the morning." She is down-trodden, abused, illiterate, angry and very fat and life doesn't seem to have any way out for her. One day a school administrator pulls her out of class (yes, amidst all this she goes to school) and notes that she is pregnant, 16 and still in the junior high. To Precious' outrage, she is removed from school and placed in a program that meets 3 days a week, preparing its students for the GED. While it seems that the System has given up on Precious, this turns out to be the life raft she has been looking for.<br /><br />In a small class of 5 or 6, her teacher, Ms. Blue Rain, encourages the girls to write about their experiences, regardless of their level of literacy. All the young ladies have had stories that would make you cry, making Precious realize she is not alone. For the first time in her life, she has a person who cares for her (Ms. Rain), she has friends (Rita, Jermaine and Rhonda) and a place of her own (she eventually goes to a half-way house for young mothers after another abusive episode with her mother). Even a towering road block doesn't slow her down: she finds out her father has died of AIDS and it is discovered that she too is HIV-positive. Fortunately her newborn son, Abdul, does not.<br /><br />With a little coaxing, Precious comes out of her shell. Slowly she finds her voice on the pages of her journal. She discovers to her delight that she has a beautiful gift for words, her poetry revealing the cast-iron spirit she possesses and the fragile hope she carries with her day to day. While the life she will eventually lead is a mystery, the book ends on a high note. Precious is learning her worth, her beauty, her intelligence and that life has a lot to offer. She vows to do the very best she can for her little son, who is the light of her life. I came away feeling like this girl was going to make something of herself and inspire the hell out of a lot people along the way.<br /><br />So why am I writing about this? I guess it shows that we can survive anything. That no matter what we have gone through in life, there is always someone who has had a much harsher hand dealt to them. That there is beauty within us all, just waiting to be unleashed and expressed. Simply that we can choose to live this life or be a victim of it.<br /><br />What am I going to choose? Life, baby, life.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5931041476965221763.post-4541554311246280232009-09-02T22:41:00.006-04:002009-09-02T22:58:30.256-04:00Congratulations!!Why is it that when I do something "bad", "wrong" or "stupid", I am quick to bash myself. I'm right there to dish out the smack, slap myself down, and bruise whatever sense of worth I have. Yet if I do something good for myself, why does it not occur to me to pat myself on the back or at the very least acknowledge this good thing?<br /><br />I do think some of it has origins in the way we were brought up in America (or at least when I was growing up). Don't get too big for your britches, don't get a big head, you'll get knocked down a peg or two if you keep it up! Why is this? I suppose that we can conjecture the Puritan roots of this country has influenced this, but really, who cares. All we need to know is to stop, listen and put in reverse.<br /><br />I plan on writing down all the great things I do, congratulating myself on those things that I may not even notice. Now, I am not talking about helping someone cross the street, or giving someone a hand with their groceries (which are fine actions); what I am setting out to do is bring to my attention the positive actions and thoughts that I am actively making into habits. The positive reinforcement will help these behaviors set in my mind, making them easier and easier to refer to and implement.<br /><br />My first entry on this list (which I intend to number so I can see these actions grow and flourish)? A serious case of letting go of anger in a situation that occured not so long ago that had had me in the grip of victim hood. I used to relish in replaying my outrage, hurt and pity but it was not allowing me to move forward. Late last week this situation yet again appeared in my imagination. I could feel myself gearing up for a quiet little rant, gathing the litany of wrongs that I had kept with me. Thankfully, I took a Moment. I stopped and asked myself "Is this what I want?". And I realized it was time. Time to finally bid adieu to this maggotty albatross that I had been carrying around. My sadistic thrill in reliving it had died. The moment I made the decision to let go, a big knot of anger released itself from the pit of my stomach and just floated away. The relief was astounding.<br /><br />I would like to come up with a fancy name for this list, but really, it is the act of writing it that is the important thing. And write it I will.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5931041476965221763.post-44140845417708351192009-08-30T15:41:00.011-04:002009-08-30T21:32:41.581-04:00The Past VanishesI am currently reading Wayne Dyer's "Your Sacred Self". I like him; his writings dovetail nicely with both the Law of Attraction and the philosophies of magick and Wicca. The first thing that has caught my attention is the concept of leaving behind your personal history.<br /><br />To quote from page 4o: "Having a personal history keeps us from now. This is a radical idea perhaps, but I am asking you to consider the possibility of totally eradicating your personal history from your consciousness and simply living completely in the present moment." Mr. Dyer then goes on to say that this does not mean completely wiping your memories clean from your mind; instead decide to not be a product of your past and leave behind those stories that take us away from listening to our Inner Source. Those stories are the things that distract us, misguide us and waste energy and time.<br /><br />Can I do this? I believe I can. You see, I have played the blame game. I have claimed the victim role. And it got me nowhere. For many years I have striven to find enlightenment and getting mired in my past slowed me down considerably. It was in my early thirties when I began to realize that I had to grow up and claim responsibility for my actions as an adult. By just this one decision, the past began to lose its potency, its power. <br /><br />By achieving this I can focus on the present, the here, the now. That is all that exists. Now all possibilities are open to me, the Creator of my world. <br /><br />The next step I have made is to make peace with that past. Now that it does not have that hold on me, those past stories have lost their bite and I can start to generate sympathy towards myself and those who are players in the stories of the past. Generating sympathy for myself has proven to be a very big opportunity for me; by opening that door it has shown me all that can be achieved, all that I can feel and experience. It must be done. Creation is at a standstill until I forgive myself.<br /><br />The past now appears like an image in my rear view mirror, becoming smaller and eventually fading away.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5931041476965221763.post-19962015282127095392009-08-21T13:13:00.007-04:002009-08-21T13:52:10.983-04:00Purr Purr<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKUD74GGQ14D-qW_jvjFRu-upzXIks9QtIhz0pUCPI5nCgjsNnG174s4XuTPjCopOnFgITMeJBagzYUahPm5Sq1jg2ZoIQxvNI5unVGr44J-4nKv75VjUPfy40goAfJDsHtZcyAEJGtXTn/s1600-h/Gimli+Baby.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372468008763451058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKUD74GGQ14D-qW_jvjFRu-upzXIks9QtIhz0pUCPI5nCgjsNnG174s4XuTPjCopOnFgITMeJBagzYUahPm5Sq1jg2ZoIQxvNI5unVGr44J-4nKv75VjUPfy40goAfJDsHtZcyAEJGtXTn/s320/Gimli+Baby.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>My boyfriend and I have adopted a new kitten which we have named Gimli, after the dwarf in the Lord of the Rings trilogy. He, his mother and several brothers and sisters were found on the doorstep of a nice lady who happens to have a history of rescuing cats. Through a forwarded email I received a couple of weeks ago I learned of this little family. Mick and I had been talking about adopting a new furry one; the timing was fortuitous. This past Sunday we met little Gimli and quickly lost our hearts. </div><br /><div></div>With a new kitten comes great responsibility, Peter. Neither Mick or I have ever had a kitten that small (Gim is about 6 weeks old) so we have worried about his food and water intake, his litter box usage and his interactions with the other cats. Yes, there are other cats in this story. I have 2 other cats, Lily and Spike, who live and love with us and they are amazing and wonderful animals. However, most cats need time to adjust to a new comer and Lil and Spike are not exception.<br /><br />So this week we have heard our fair share of hissing and growling. The old guys are a little put out about this fluffy new guy while Gimli is just trying to figure out what the heck is happening. He has quickly adjusted to our environment. He spent his first few days or so under my dresser; then one day we opened the door to the bedroom (where we were keeping Gim separated from the other guys) and lo and behold, the kitty is roaming around the room, meowing and wanting out. We have gradually increased his outside time and last night we decided to leave the bedroom door open. Today (fingers crossed) is Gimli's first day with full access to the apartment.<br /><br />My friend <a href="http://www.coryellekramer.com/">Coryelle</a> has been a tremendous help. She is a great woman and phenomenal animal communicator. One of her tips really helped; we rubbed Gimli with a dish towel and left it out where Spike and Lily were. That way they could get used to his scent at their own pace while not having to deal with him directly. I have taken classes from Coryelle and using the techniques she has taught revealed a bit about what I fear and how I deal with it.<br /><br />Basically, I quiet my mind and "reach" out to a particular cat. I call them by name and ask to speak to them. For this situation, I was trying to prepare Lily and Spike for the incoming new guy, telling them that they were not being replaced and above all, that they were loved very very much. After Gimli's arrival I have tried to communicate with all of them, checking in on their feelings and what I can do to help the process. Not surprising I have found it difficult to concentrate and get a connection when I am stressed or scared. I have had to really face these fears (will I be able to care for them all, what if they get sick, what if they escape, what if they harm one another) and know I can handle them if the situation arises.<br /><br />Lily, the most dominant, hisses at Gimli, though that is slowly diminishing. She allows me to pet her but she is not as affectionate as usual. Through my communications, Lily's main concern appears to be the preservation of the order of things. As long as the other cats know she is number 1, all is right with the world. Spike is a little more sensitive; he worries about getting less attention and getting lost in the shuffle. Both Mick and I continually speak to them, telling them we love them and stroking them whenever we can. I hate to put them through the stress. I am glad to be able to give an animal a home. We have a lot of love to give.<br /><br />Gimli, bless his little soul, seems pretty adventurous. He loves to be held and his belly to be rubbed. The last few nights have found him sharing our bed, which scares us because of his size. We are so afraid of rolling over him that I don't think either one of us got much sleep. I placed him on his blanket about 4 times during the night, and each and every time he climbed back up onto the bed. Last night I placed a small cat bed among our pillows so that Gimli could have a relative safe place to sleep. He likes to lay where our heads are, which is a little safer than say, at our feet. I have debated on what to do because I think he really misses some kind of contact when he sleeps at night. He may have been separated from his mother a week or so too soon and I want him to be comforted and feel safe. So for now we are keeping this arrangement; we may, once he has a more cordial relationship with the other cats, be kept out of the bedroom.<br /><br />I can't wait to come home tonight.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5931041476965221763.post-50779155172310951752009-08-19T14:33:00.001-04:002009-09-02T22:59:11.389-04:00Writing My AutobiographyFor the past 7-8 months I have been studying with Mary Browne, owner of <a href="http://universalpathways.com/">Universal Pathways</a> and a priestess in the <a href="http://www.fellowshipofisis.com/">Fellowship of Isis</a>. It is a small class (one other person) and we meet once a month at Mary's lovely creation. I will be honest; I was not entirely sure what to expect when I signed up. All I knew was that I wanted to work with Mary. I had become familiar with her and Universal Pathways through <a href="http://hvpn.blogspot.com/">HVPN</a>. They sponsored day-long retreats at the center (which has several hundred acres and a house with a to-die-for library, beautiful temple area and plenty of comfortable places to meditate and just be) that were unbelievable. It was not the activities that made it a great experience; it was the lack of activities that allowed participants to revel in the center’s beauty and peace. But without Mary, it would not be the same.<br /><br />When I first met Mary, I instantly felt good. At peace with myself. In the presence of a person who without hesitation would give you a nice warm hug and tell you that it was going to be okay. She has an air of quiet knowledge and power about her; it isn’t flashy or cast about to impress people. She just is. When I heard that she taught a Mystery School (or Goddess class, as it is casually called) I jumped at the chance to work with her.<br /><br />The focus of the class is to awaken our sense of our own power and to seek assistance and inspiration from the Goddess. Mary likens the class to a pregnancy. It is 9 months long and with each trimester the experience gets more intense. At the first class she assigned a project that was due on the second to last class – our Autobiography. We are to read it to everyone in the class, without interruption. In the past some have lasted less than an hour, some have lasted 2 days. It is our opportunity to speak our truth, without criticism or fear.<br /><br />Well, I didn’t work on mine that much, at first. I moved in June and the packing and sorting process took much of my attention. I finally settled down to write. The writing, as it has turned out, has been serving as a vehicle for healing, enlightenment and joy. As my story goes along (I am telling it as chronologically as I can) interesting things have been occurring. I wrote about my high school experience, which I relayed as a time of isolation and depression. Within a week I heard from a former high school classmate who mentioned how funny, child-like and interesting I was; in fact he said “I was before my time”. I was? I had no idea. As I unravel my memory, I am reliving experiences that have long been locked away and I am thinking about people who have been out of my life of a long time. I have begun to feel a sense of gratitude to people from my past, feeling blessed for all they gave me.<br /><br />Taking a second look at what I had been writing, I realized that much of my initial story was written in a negative view point. It was rather dreary reading. I have started to go through it again, with a more compassionate eye. I don’t intend to remove things that were sad or tragic, but by stepping back I am find good memories and stories too. I have begun to realize it was not all gloom and doom. Even events that were not all that great are getting a fresh perspective.<br /><br />I am not done writing it. I am in various stages of re-envisioning, editing and writing. It is due this Sunday (August 19th)! Time flies, doesn’t it? While I intend to have it completed by then I hope to move forward with care so that the end product isn’t rushed and incomplete.<br /><br />Wait! Why am I still writing this post?? I have work to do! I’ll post something new next week. Wish me luck!!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5931041476965221763.post-82214311439406208552009-08-15T08:00:00.002-04:002009-09-02T22:59:29.174-04:00Re-writing the Story<div>As you may or may not know, I have a fuller figure. I have had this natural abundance since I was around 7 or 8 years old. It has not been easy growing up in this day and age being a larger-sized person. People can be brutal and I have not always handled it well. I have tried diets. Maybe not all of them, but I've done my share. I have started numerous exercise programs and have joined a few gyms. Success in terms of weight loss was elusive, programs abandoned, memberships canceled. Either the program was more difficult than I could do or I got bored or injured. Most of the regimens I have done have lead to weight loss of about 7 lbs., regardless of how hard I tried. All of it was very discouraging.<br /><br />In the past few years I have stopped trying to formulate a specific program. Not living up to the expectations I set up for myself on these programs turned out to be far worse than being and staying fat. It gives ample opportunity to get the ol' fish knife out and gut myself from stern to stem.<br /><br />What to do? Well, I have to write a new story! That is my new assignment. In order to change the old dialogue running through my head, I instead write down what I want to achieve as though I already have. Writing in the present tense juices up the intentions, increasing the positive vibrations emitted to the Universe, which in turn provides opportunities to help me create the life I am envisioning.<br /><br />I need to be specific and to stretch it as far as I am comfortable. "I feel good about myself every day" is something I can get my teeth into; "I am at the weight I am most comfortable at" is more than I can believe at this time. As I write I am to check with myself that these statements feel right. If they don't, they are not used. They do not become part of the story.<br /><br />According to Ellie, there are 4 questions* to ask my self. The answers need to be short and clear. First I am to envision what I desire and see myself living it; then I ask different questions about what is success and to list it. All answers have a 3 different examples.<br /><br />I have not started this yet; looking over the directions it looks like mental exercise, stretching out areas hardly used, pumping blood and revitalizing parts that have not yet learned their potential. This appears to be a simple exercise; however I have fooled myself before with that thinking. I am curious as to what is going to emerge from this.<br /><br />Sometimes re-writing the story takes a little creativity and serious imagination. That I think I have; I just wonder if I will reach high enough or will I settle for safety.<br /><br /><br /><br />*these questions are from <a href="http://livingthelawofattraction.com/">Ellie Walsh</a>'s booklet, Tell a New Story, Change Your Life Part 2. Thanks Ell for your support so far!<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5931041476965221763.post-59485974615484155832009-08-13T08:00:00.000-04:002009-08-13T08:21:25.169-04:00Co-CreatingCo-creating. Say wha? Whaddya mean, I am co-creating my experiences with others? Yeah, I can't control what others think or say (though I have wanted to) - but that we are actually co-creating, co-producing, co-sharing our experience? This is something I have to sit back and think about.<br /><br />Why this is even coming up with my sessions with Ellie is this: over the weekend I had a watershed moment concerning what other people think of me, of shouldering responsibility for everyone in the world and for caring and worrying about it ALL. To say the least, it has affected my health. The stress I have placed on myself has been enormous and I am at that point where I cannot do it anymore.<br /><br />Anyway, I had a facial appointment Saturday morning. Man, I could not wait for it; I wanted to relax and be pampered. And I was running late. About 10-15 minutes late. I HATE arriving late to anything. As I am driving along the interstate this was running through my head: Oh no, I'm late, she is going to be pissed with me. Oh crap, I am going to make her late with the rest of her appointments for the rest of the day. It will be like the domino affect; one person late, and one by one, each subsequent appointment gets further and further away from the arranged start time. How inconsiderate of me!<br /><br />As this little story ran through my head like a little ferret chasing a ball, I took a deep breath and said: "Relax. Now why is it exactly my problem? She (the facialist) is a professional. I doubt you are the first customer she has had who was late for an appointment. Her latter appointments are NOT your problem. Your job is to get to your destination in one piece without harming others on the road. Chill."<br /><br />Whooosh. That feeling of shame and fear went away and I safely arrived at my destination. Andrea greeted me with a smile, showed me to my room and accepted my apologies without making a big deal. And the facial was great!<br /><br />I wrote about this experience in an appreciation list and noted that this was pretty big for me. For as long as I could remember I have felt the need to carry the weight of the world on my shoulders. I don't know exactly why I took on this super-human task and quite frankly don't care. What I care about is what I do NOW.<br /><br />Ellie also noted this achievement from my list; this is when she mentioned co-creation. According to Ellie, I was not the only architect in this situation. Andrea was also building and creating this moment between us. To think, this sharing of creation is happening around us in all our dealings with others. Why didn't I think of that? Of course, if one's approach to life is to take responsibility for all that is wrong, I guess it is not too far-fetched to think I was fully responsible for the course in all of my interactions with other people.<br /><br />This is something to think about more and observe as I trip along life. It is so funny how the simplest of things reveal such vast and profound meanings.<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5931041476965221763.post-25548115801662423722009-08-12T15:31:00.001-04:002009-08-12T15:51:12.508-04:00School DazeOk, so have been talking about Appreciation Lists. How they are starting to subtly change my outlook and my world. As I was writing up yesterday's list my Jr. High music teacher, Mrs. Robare, popped up in my head. This woman is a pip! She is dynamic, funny, loud and brassy. All big hair, flowing dresses with high-heeled boots and 18 coats of mascara (no exaggeration, we asked!). She taught chorus and whether it was a class, a choir practice or a concert, she was standing at her piano, Jerry Lee Lewis-style, pounding on the keys, yelling and smiling like a crazy woman. She was the most amazing teacher.<br /><br />The thing that struck me the most was that she CARED. She had command of any room she entered, she took no guff and she loved each and every one of us. Of course, she did not hold back when we were driving her nuts, but you knew she was in the right profession.<br /><br />She picked great music too. She had a select choir, Swing Group, that you had to audition for. We even used "It Don't Mean a Thing (If it Ain't Got That Swing)" as a our theme song. She fostered an appreciation for melody, rhythm and form like no other music teacher (except for perhaps B, my High School band teacher - MAYBE). Being around you made you want to stand up straighter, look your best and SMILE!<br /><br />I posted something about my appreciation for her on my Facebook update and I think that was the most popular update I have ever written (which, in reality, isn't saying too much since I don't write too many). Both former classmates and friends chimed in and it was so nice to initiate a bright little spot of good feeling in the world. Even better, one of my former classmates somehow knows one of her relatives and will pass on my comments to her. I really hope they make her smile. Compared to all the smiles she has given me, it is the least I can do.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5931041476965221763.post-8123806900593047992009-08-12T10:59:00.001-04:002009-09-02T22:59:29.174-04:00Appreciation ListsI have been working with <a href="http://livingthelawofattraction.com/">Ellie Walsh</a>, who is a teacher of the Law Of Attraction. I have known Ellie for a little over a year; she is loud, funny, a dynamo and I just love her. We met while taking the same psychic development class at <a href="http://ventureinwardcenter.com/">Venture Inward</a> in East Greenbush, NY. She has taught classes on the Law of Attraction and holds bi-monthly sessions at VI.<br /><br />What is the <a href="http://www.abraham-hicks.com/lawofattractionsource/index.php">Law of Attraction</a>? It is a system of beliefs put forth by Esther and Jerry Hicks, who receive their information through a group of entities calling themselves Abraham. <strong>Essentially, your thoughts create your life.</strong> Positive, negative, every single thought is a building block of the life you live, at every minute. You want something, you will attract it. If you don’t want something, you will attract it. That’s the kicker that gets me every time.<br /><br />I believe this stuff. I knew I could improve things in my life by applying this principle on a consistent basis. So that is when I contacted Ellie and began a one-on-one learning relationship with her. I talk to her on the phone once a week, email whenever the need arises and in general have access to her pool of knowledge and experience.<br /><br />One of the first things she had me do was to create an Appreciation list. Initially I misheard her and was writing up Gratitude lists. I emailed them to her so that she could take a look at what was going on with me, what language I was using and what I was focusing on. It was funny, once she reiterated that they were Appreciation lists; when I relabeled them they became different animals. Gratitude felt like being grateful that I wasn’t living during the 1930’s Depression; appreciation gave me a feeling of openness, abundance and light.<br /><br />So I have been writing up these lists almost every day. I send them to Ell and sometimes she comments on them, sometimes she doesn’t or comments on them during our phone sessions. I have become more disciplined about writing them; Ellie asked me why I was paying her if I didn’t use the tools she prescribed. Why wasn’t I? I was investing time and money into this, why not jump in full-throttle? I think part of it was that I thought that this simple task was something I could treat casually; I wanted all the good stuff! I wanted to be working at my dream job in a week, lose all the weight I wanted in a month and have all the money I ever wanted in three. Ellie kindly pointed out that writing these lists were essential to shifting my way of thinking; of appreciating what I did have, even if it wasn’t anything that on the surface I didn’t want. I had to fully appreciate something before I could change it. The list writing was the way to facilitate the brain-change. And dammit, she was right!!<br /><br />My lists, at first, were pretty basic and short. I am appreciative of my boyfriend, my cats, my father’s health, the fact I had a job, etc. Then Ellie challenged me to expand upon them; why was I appreciative of this? And why not be appreciative not only of the fact that I have a car, but appreciate the people who designed and built it. The lists I began creating had more depth and started to open things up for me in my life. I started to look at things with a more gentle attitude and as a result I have been creating a more gentle life.<br /><br />I have a phone session with Ellie tonight; I can’t wait! I’ll let you know how it goes!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2