When I Grow Up


This afternoon I went to see a little sweet lady in her mid 90’s. She’s a hoot. Oh my gawd, an itty bitty firecracker dressed as an elderly person. She’s wise and lovely. She always confuses me with being her nurse. Says I’m her favorite. (I recognize that language)! She was asleep and I waited around for her. I sat in a room with other elderly folks observing the generations before me. A nurse came by and we spoke about my client. He said that last week he witnessed her tenacity and spunkiness as she walked herself in the wheelchair to another elderly resident, grabbed his face and put her tongue in his. There they were making out. It caught me by surprise and before I knew it the lack of filtering shouted, “She’s my hero. She is my new mantra for life. I want to grow up and be her! Hold nothing back!” The nurse, caught by surprise, had one of those belly laughs that is highly contagious. He shook his head in agreement recognizing the freedom of living life without worrying about what others think. 

Laughter is magical. Before I knew it some of the residents were laughing along with us without a clue to what was funny. The harder I laughed the louder they became. 

My spunky client is truly a composition of letting go and living fully. She’s out lived everyone around her. She has no filtering, no finesse, and no reason to hold anything back. She’s a warrior and a zen master wrapped in less than 85 lbs. 

Who do you want to be? How do you want to live by the end of your life? Make it memorable and lovable. Make it wild enough that those around you laugh the moment they see you. The ride is absofreakin delicious. I can only imagine being eclectically spectacular without giving a crap what anyone thinks! Yeah….that and lots of glitter and sparkles.

Freedom

 

freedomOkay, let’s start today finding inner freedom through strength and wisdom. Follow your divine guidance. You do not live in a prison…except for the thoughts you carry and entertain. Set them free. At any given time you have the choice to see the light or the darkness. Which one will you choose?

The Gentle Flow of You

I’m on my yoga mat completely conscious of my breath, the space in between the gaps, and then something breaks. It’s loud. It is so loud that I think the entire room hears it. This explosion of deep emotions rushes up and I can’t control the tears. My heart literally feels like it’s cracked open. No one notices. I am in the back of the room. They are also in their own explosions and thoughts. I am aware that certain poses, especially the most gentle ones, reach the crevices of memories. I begin the stupid game: “what’s real right now.” Breath becomes my anchor. The child’s pose is all I can do as I wet the mat. This is all I can do right now without judgment.

I don’t know, especially in a wonderful happy Saturday, why I am visited by such depth. It’s okay. I don’t recall having made an appointment with my emotions but it’s okay. I make room for this visitation through gentle flow of practice. 

We want to be heard. We want to know someone has us in their thoughts. Before I entered the class I received a beautiful private message from an incredible sweet woman I admire. She said the most loveliest things…. Things that are hard to hear at times for me. But I received them with joy and gratitude. So there on my mat I exhale the spaces of worthlessness from the crevices of my cellular memories. 

“F@*k this sensitively! Toughen up, buttercup!” (And a few Spanish nasty words come through as well). I think so clearly in deep ache and I feel anger rise for a second, or minutes. But I recognize the exquisiteness of being an empath. We feel deeper and wholeheartedly, especially when we don’t want to deal with our own bullshit. Cause God forbid we are truthful with the reality of what’s truly going on in our lives. We want to be loved. We want to be seen and heard. We need to feel supported. There is a human necessity to know that our purpose isn’t just love, but the connection between one soul. 

This is absolutely unacceptable. We are not to place our worth on anyone else to reflect it like some funhouse distorted mirror. We are responsible for our own power so to feel the need to give another the right to tell us how they see us, how we come across, and who we are, is freaking ridiculous. 

Isn’t it? Really? So egotistical of the mind to expect gratification for our greatness from another. F*€k that!!!

If you can today, pls love yourself so deeply that any love out there doesn’t come close to your own love affair with self. You are magnificent. You do not need to label your worth by how others see you. Don’t freaking toughen up. Be gentle with you. Let it go and allow your light to guide others. I love you.

The Deepest Place of Truth

goddess truth

I have been through a significant growth spurt lately and I can feel it through an expansion of my heart. I have come to a simple understanding at this age. I am more comfortable with me and how I carry myself. I feel lighter from all the hang-ups, past voices, and self-sabotaging that controlled me in my twenties and thirties. I am living true to myself. I am honest with what I see and how I translate it. I have shredded the labels from society and expectations of how I am supposed to be. I am not so worried about how the information is consumed by another or how they perceive me for that matter. I have also “cleaned house” in relationships, friendships, and toxic emotional vampires.

You see, I now know something that my younger self refused to see: truth. You can’t know truth until you live authentically to your soul’s yearning. You will never know that you have been sleeping until you awake. This awakening is nothing more than the acceptance of everything inside of you: weight, health, humor, sadness, anger, fears, and all the yuckiness that comes with being human. It’s all an illusion. When you finally let go of the lies you can learn the truth of happiness, love, and compassion for yourself. When all deception of the ego is gone that’s when your true self emerges. I know it’s difficult to understand this but it is part of the healing process. The healing part can get nasty. In order to pass from any dis-ease you have to release. Self-hatred is the nastiest of all diseases. Recovery can be a lonely place…but you are never really alone.

Unfortunately, we have bought into the programming that we only learn through pain. Pain is only a catalyst from one point to the other. It’s like being stuck inside a well and not being able to get out. You see the light up above but you can’t climb out. It’s only when a rope from above is thrown down that you grab and can get out. That rope is faith. You cannot have faith and fear participating simultaneously. Fear is the act of separation. Fear isolates any kind of spiritual growth. It keeps the ego in business.  Forgiveness is the first step in reaching faith. And, let me explain that this “faith” has little to do with religion.  It is the embodiment of Christ Consciousness and awareness.

Who you are evolves from where you are right now at this very moment. Your thoughts, your wishes, hopes and dreams come from that place of now. Until this moment every negative thought has been a deception. Love yourself. You cannot love another if you can’t manage to love you with all your light while accepting the perfect imperfections.

The truth is that you are a perfect being that has no need for control. You are divine. You are God. You are love. And, most of all you are the only YOU that will ever exist. Everything you’ve done has brought you here. Choose joy, love and light. You will never know truth until you live authentically. There’s nothing in this world that cannot be attained when you are honest with YOU.

Where I’ve been,

what I’ve done,

is unimportant

to where I am right now.

Who I’ve become

from long ago

is irrelevant

to how I am today.

The lessons and experiences,

painful and degrading,

have taught me

the meaning of perseverance.

I am here now,

removing the veil of deception,

completely awake,

while empowering truth

in all I will ever become.

I am finally real.

I am that which is free.

I am the embodiment of perfection.

I am joy.

I am love.

I am light.

I am All.

Lessons from the Mountains

From time to time I will be posting pages from a book I am finishing.  I hope you enjoy these lessons:

In the winter of 2010 I find myself alone on a mountain top in an old motel living with the ghosts of regrets.  My two youngest are still dealing with the changes of the “poor life” versus their other life of luxuries.  Our home is a modest one.  My best friend and business partner leaves to work for weeks at a time in the airline business.  I don’t know anyone in this town.  I am engulfed in my own thoughts and haunting.  I don’t want to fail.  I cannot fail. Each freezing day that passes I want to return to the old places of familiarity.

The winter is the worst seen in many years on these mountains.  The pipes freeze and I am left without water for eight days.  Two weeks prior to this ordeal the basement floods.  There’s a monsoon of waterfalls coming through the walls.  The house is mourning and so am I.  I sit on the steps looking and listening to the cries.  I join the basement in this release.  I don’t know how much more I can take.  Was moving here a mistake?  What will my family think?  I cannot return to the life I had in Florida.  I cannot go anywhere without money.  I am alone.  I am cold and alone in a way I haven’t felt in years.  If stubbornness was a degree I would have a PhD in it.  I think this is what keeps me moving on auto pilot at this time.  I don’t know.  What do I know about living in these mountains that seem to be taking me to places of unknown assurance?

The days are gloom.  My entire essence is going against this terrain.  Now, on the fifth day without water, I decide to go to the frozen pond and grab a bucket full from the excess trickling down the mountain side.  It is two degrees outside.  I am in my pajamas, hair up on a bun, and water boots to guide my slippery path.  I go down frozen steps, iced and slick just like the pond.  I stand on the ice waiting for the trickling to fill the bucket so I can flush toilets.  I have a half-full bucket when I decide I am cold.  It’s enough for one flushing.  I make it up three steps when I hit an ice chunk and I tumble down the steps on my ass dumping the icy water on my legs.  I am wet, cold, sore and angry as hell.  I yell to the heavens, “Is this all you have?  Really!  Keep giving it to me and I will continue to take it. If I am not supposed to be here then show me a freaking sign so I can leave.”  The valley is quiet. The voice travels and echoes through the dead-ness of winter.  I am so tired of this crap.

I enter the house and cry on the floor in front of the fireplace. I have no money to get someone to fix the broken pipes.  They need to thaw and I need to as well.  I am frozen in my emotions as I cannot figure anything out.  I don’t know exactly what I am supposed to do at this point.  I go downstairs to my basement bedroom where the water has frozen in places.  The large part of my shoes had to be thrown out.  I am down to nothing in my ability to think or find a positive outlet. These are the moments that bring me to my knees.

I think of these mountains, the Appalachian Trail, the beauty and serenity of winter.  I am traumatized by all the white stuff on the ground.  I am not made for this cold.  I cannot stay warm.  I am afraid of the heaters being on too long and causing a fire.  I am afraid of the gas fireplace leaking gas while we sleep.  I make sure the kids have warmth upstairs in their rooms but I have nothing downstairs in the dungeon.  I wrap myself in layers and wait for sun and warmth.  It is months before I feel heat on my shoulders.  It is years before I recognize the power of these lessons.  I am stripped down to nothing.  Even my favorite shoes are gone.   I wait for a sign and it doesn’t arrive until I am ready to conquer my ego and self-worth issues.

The next morning it dawns on me that I have antiques I can go sell.  I have an engagement ring that I can pawn off for food and fixing the well and pipes.  I grab a hold of everything in a box and trek down the mountain, avoiding the black ice that has taught me to tread carefully for days now.  I go to an antique warehouse in Asheville.  I enter with four bottles that are full of liquor and have a music box with a ballerina dancing in the bottle.  They are worth something.  The Dutch company has been out of business for over thirty years.  I know their worth.

Two of the bottles get purchased. I then ask if they buy jewelry and immediately I take the ring that my ex had given me under false pretenses and place it on the counter.  The woman checks the diamonds and asks what I want for it.  I tell her that I don’t know and to make me an offer.

She offers me two hundred dollars and I tell her I will take it.  But then something magical happens as she starts to write the check.  She closes her checkbook and tells me, “You know this ring is worth more than $200?”

“Yes, I know.” I stare into her eyes.

“I can’t buy this from you at that price, ma’am.”  She hands me the ring and I place it in my pocket. She looks at me and the remaining bottles, “You know God provides tests all the time.  Some of us pass them and some of us fail.  You have made me question my character.  I almost failed another test from HIM.  Do you understand this?”

I say to her, “Sweetie, I am humbled by the fact that you didn’t rip me off. I have no sentimental value to the ring.  I would take the $200 if you care to buy it.”

She says, “Thank God.  I just cannot write the check. I cannot rip you off like that.”  Her eyes get glossy and she smiles in such a sympathetic way. She asks, “What is the story behind the ring?”

I tell her it was given to me by my ex and it was to cover up his infidelities at that time.  I couldn’t wear the ring and had not worn in years.   I want to tell her that it’s okay. I am okay with letting it go.  I want to eat something other than Ramen noddles, pay for my pipes to be fixed, and maybe take the kids to a movie.  I want to buy water so I can wash dishes.  I don’t share any of this.

I tell her thank you for her honesty in regards to the value, but as I am walking out of the store she says, “Miss, you are like that ballerina in the bottle.  Don’t ever underestimate yourself.  You are stronger and more graceful than you can imagine.”

I walk out with tears racing down my cheeks.  I had not shared the story of the bottles and my childhood. I don’t tell her that when I was six years old, in one of many Houdini acts, my father showed up with a similar bottle as a gift to my mother.  I remember standing by the dining room table watching the ballerina dance inside the gold liquor while my parents argued in the kitchen.  I wanted to be just like the ballerina: graceful, thin, beautiful and oblivious to my surroundings.

As I get in my car I realize that I am finally that graceful little thing inside of a bottle dancing to a French melody.  I have become the grace that carries me and pushes me towards the rhythm of God’s tune.  I know this.  And forever I will be grateful to this stranger for pointing it out that I am stronger than I think.   I am the embodiment of grace and forgiveness.

I now have some money.  I stop for food and I return up the mountain with a bucket full of hope, grace and peace until the next lesson these mountains choose to bestow upon me. .

The Invitation

magic

It seems like a long-discarded proposal

placed in an unused desk drawer,

but it has been the overlooked notice

of love’s awkward arrival.

Conveniently, I have chosen

to misplace the key

that unlocks the drawer

and now, mysteriously,

it has been opened wide

revealing its contents.

I marvel at the ambiguity,

the written language,

completely foreign to me

yet somehow I understand it.

How foolish of me

to discard this notice

for so very long

while its messenger

has been on a constant crusade

reminding me

that I am still invited

to love;

to feel love;

to be in love….

I remain spoiled

to the un-necessity of losing myself

to anyone other than me

because of traumas,

deep-rooted hurt, and

the painful past.

But, here in this small drawer

lies the truth about the future.

I have been invited to love again.

As I hold this tender offering

I smile because

deep inside I know

I must go and attend

in the celebration

of love,

my life,

myself….