The Magic of These Times

This morning…sometime around 1:30AM the moon woke me. I stepped out of the room, tip toeing, as not to wake Matt or Kali going down the stairs. I went outside searching for what woke me, the giant eye in the sky. It was magical. I never ever get tired of sitting outside and watching the night sky and all the incredible mysticism it holds beyond our vision.

I stepped inside, cold, shaking and when I went to the bathroom I witnessed my daddy’s whiskey-color eyes staring back. I hadn’t thought about him in long time. This season always gets me nostalgic. But I also feel the magic in the air…in the sweetness of something I’ve missed for a long time.

My dad left to get a pack of cigarettes on December 23rd, when I was 9 years old. He promised that morning to take me to the store to help me make a list for Santa Claus. He left and never returned. It’s not a fairy tale story but when I look into my eyes now I see his eyes, with the lines of laughter and I have his smile.I also see the millions of reasons for the things he did…like running away when things got heavy, or avoiding dealing with craziness, or simple responsibilities. It was also what made him charming and the life of party. He didn’t have an ill bone to him. I have his crazy sarcastic wit and the ability to talk to an ant as if it was human.

He also taught me what not to become with his absence. The traits I may carry in my genetic pool aren’t for me to act on. I stay and raise my kids. I stay when it gets tough and rough. I stay when it’s way too much and my natural inkling is to run. I also stay because I love. And he taught me that. He missed out on so much. I would never want to experience his regrets and resentments. He died a painful death with cancer all throughout his body for years.

It’s taken many decades to make peace with Christmas. This time of the year sneaks up and pulls emotions out.

So, once I turned the light off I went outside again…said a few prayers to the heavens and I witnessed his response with a shooting star. Like a gorgeous flow of glitter….

That moon…those stars…that magic. Go explore it folks. It’s healing!

There is magic all around us. Do you feel it?

Fairyologist on Duty

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I just recently became a Certified Fairyologist. Yes, there is such a thing and for my birthday my hubby enrolled me on Doreen Virtues’ online class. Now you may ask, “What does a Fairyologist do?” This is a valid question. I don’t really know what they do except what was taught on the class: history of fairies and how to live among them.  I can only tell you what I do and who I am in regards to nature. I am a play-in-the-mud-jump-in-the-creeks-sing-silly-songs-wear-tutus-and-love-everyone eccentric type of gal. I don’t take myself seriously.  I have a quick wit and find entertainment just about everywhere I go. I respect Mother Earth. I feel grounded being outdoors. I love to get lost in hikes, travel to new places, talk to people, hear their stories, and enjoy the silliness that’s out in the world. I am not here to tell you how you should live, but I can surely provide some entertainment on what works for me. I am not much for adulting these days. I have little respect for the stressful life, and anything that helps me release burdens…I am on that path.

I have raised six children and now raising a 2 year old (number 7). Now in midlife, she’s teaching me to revert into childhood and take no crap from social programming. She keeps reminding me what it is to view the world from the simplicity of innocence. She is reminding me how we all come in with such incredible awareness and gifts. It’s in those moments that she has become my hero. Children have a magical way of focusing on this. They react to the world around them with curiosity. “Forget that over there!” They don’t worry about tomorrow. They are consumed with the over stimulation of play and what’s right in front of them. They change their minds one minute at a time. They celebrate life through the smallest of things, like picking up a rock. They can observe a worm moving for an hour. They don’t see fear. They accept what is right in their vision. They are the greatest source of spiritual connection available to us.

As I finished the course and got my “certification” things have shown up. The ideas have run overboard and I am trying to find a way to organize the things I can do with my Fairy Whispers and Play. I want to do workshops on how to live life guided by the joy from your inner child. Let’s face it, this “adulting” business is pretty intense! We have forgotten what it is that we wanted to become as children. We forget how to play because there is always a to-do list, a set of rules, work, schedules, children, parents, spouses and the constant derailing of responsibilities. We forget that art, writing, music, and all sorts of creating weren’t gifts for childhood. They are gifts for our entire lives. We didn’t come into this life to spend the first 13 years, or so, being one way and then disregard our desires, passion, and dreams. That’s an instruction via society that is false and corrupted. We are here to follow our bliss, and when we do, mysticism follows.  We create our stories.  We are shaped by them.

I am embarking in a new life. I cannot describe the pathway. I can see it clearly but don’t quite know where it will take me. Meantime, I am putting together a program to see if I can actually help the contagious spirit of laughter, play, and creation. How did we ever forget that our happiness comes from our inner child? And, yes, many of you have had some disastrous upbringings. We have all been wired and programmed to believe that “growing up” means “not participating in child play.” That’s okay! The beauty of programming and beliefs can be altered with conscious awareness. You have the power to dream, visualize and create the life you always wanted.

How do you get there?

By being truthful with how you are right now. If you aren’t happy then it’s time to see what’s stumping your dreams. Things don’t change over night, but your perception and acceptance of decisions can begin to create a plan. This plan is what can help gather your wits, joy, freedom and a new beginning. Sometimes fear of success is what stops us from performing. We are all waiting for failure. That’s a given…but how many of us can actually move through the voices of our pasts and be willing to lose ourselves in our childhood dreams again?

Change starts and ends with your inner child. Holding that little girl/boy, and assuring him/her that you have a handle on this is the first step to creating a space of joy. Taking a new hobby, making time for yourself (even if only 30 minutes a week), or joining a group of like-minded folks is recharging for your spirit.  There are ways to open up the memories of who you are and what you have forgotten for so long.  There are tools to release the hurt and move through the joy. You are not alone.  You can finally set those dreams in motion.  It’s never too late to be what you were suppose to be before the world told you otherwise.  It’s never too late to be that child again.

I am working on a some things that can bring you joy. I hope you have allowed your little person to laugh today. I hope you have done something magical and empowering while looking at life just a little different. Go get yourself some multi-colored-silly glasses and let’s begin the adventure!  Let’s meet up in a playground soon!

Letting go of attachments

divine truth

When my second son was born a very talented cousin made him a baby quilt. As Patrick began to walk that “blankie” went with him everywhere. It played in playgrounds, the beach, watched movies in theaters, and took long rides in the car. It was washed every other day. He and his blanket were inseparable until one day. On a sunny Florida Saturday afternoon when he was four, Patrick took his treasured security to the swings in our backyard. He came in for lunch and the blanket was used as a tug of war by our two dogs. When he realized what had happened it was too late. The blanket was shredded into pieces. He went into heartbreak. He broke like I had never seen him.

I held him in my arms as he sobbed, his heart bleeding into mine with loss and sorrow. He couldn’t believe that his blankie was gone. How would he sleep at night? What would protect him? Within his questions I kissed his head and rocked him. I told him that “things” didn’t protect us. The faith he had in his blanket and companionship could be replaced by allowing God to protect him. At that moment he looked up at me. His eyes swollen from so many tears and he said that he couldn’t live without his blanket. We sat up and talked for an hour about possibilities, the heavens and faith.

As a mother I have witnessed so many of these heart wrenching moments of desperation. I told him that I didn’t have a blanket and that I was safe. I would put a huge bubble around me every day and around him and his brother. Both my boys were wiser than their young years. It wasn’t hard for him to understand the concept of letting go of attachments.

That night when I tucked him into bed, he placed his thumb in his mouth and rubbed the end of his shirt since his blanket was no longer there. He removed the thumb when he saw me and said, “Mommy, I don’t need my blankie. I have God protecting me now. I am putting blue bubble gum around me.” From that moment on my sweet son has been the minimalist in the family. That young man now, in his mid-twenties, has no love for things. He follows experiences rather than accumulate the materialism. He lives in complete simplicity.

How many of us have security blankets that we won’t let go? How many of us fill our homes and lives with stuff that occupies space but doesn’t do anything but clutter and weigh us down? In order to find divine truth and peace there has to be less of these things. Stuff is just stuff. The importance that we give it is as valuable as believing in divinity. Wrap yourself in assurance that less is more. God bless you!

Angel Tears

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I get home from work and begin making dinner when my 20-year-old daughter informs me that there is a leak in the living room. I go into the living room and she explains that while waiting for her laundry to be done that she was sitting watching television when two drops of water fell from the ceiling. I ask her if maybe it was our Great Dane drooling on her arm. She laughs and says, “No, Mom! The dog was on the floor asleep. You seriously think I wouldn’t notice it was the dog?”

“Okay, turn on the lights and show me where you were sitting.” I stand in the middle of the room searching for water stains. I see nothing on the ceiling. It’s been raining non-stop and I don’t see any sign of leaking anywhere, thank God.

“Mom, I swear! It was two drops right here on my arm.” She extends her arm as if hours later the water marks were still tattooed on her skin.

I walk away, stop and turn. “Baby, you know angels are known to shed tears that fall from the heavens.” I say this completely in truth without sarcasm. I mean…I said it without an ounce of logical thought processing. To me it was a rational explanation.

She looks at me…wearing a look of confusion and sarcasm and says, “Mom! You do know I am not six anymore?”

I turn around and go back to making dinner. As I said the comment I didn’t realize how truly juvenile and exaggerated it sounded. I was in my moment! I gave an answer without filtering it…without truly thinking about how ridiculous it sounded because, to be honest, I believe in the magic of angels. I could have said it was the unicorn urinating as it was flying above her. I would not have been surprised if that came out of my mouth as well. I live in a constant state of awesomeness while things happen that have no logical explanation. And, in that world I don’t think before I speak!

We become what we believe. We believe in the power of endless possibilities and therefore anything is possible in the world. Why not angel tears? Why not a unicorn kiss? Why not fairy dust sliding down her arm? Why not? In a world governed by rationale and preconceived notions why not believe in the unbelievable? Why are children the only ones who believe? Perhaps because they haven’t been taught to believe otherwise. You don’t need proof…you just need to believe. Do not let anyone tell you it cannot be done. Things do manifest from the most unusual of places just to get our attention. It’s magical, mystical and pure enchantment!

The Tango

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Mami loved Daddy with fierce exhaustion,

gripping and manipulating her way

into his heart and life.

I watched, young and naïve,

expecting to love the same way

without clawing my way into anyone’s heart.

Her end result was always similar:

He would vanish while we slept,

appeared years later when in trouble,

and played the same role again and again

until the lights went out and he exited off stage

into parallel dimension.

I was left to soothe her, remind her of life,

as I walked around with a perfect halo of light

that would make her proud and forget

the hole she had inside.

I watched discovering love,

witnessing its complexities

not as easy and fearless as I felt in my core,

emulating it to look healthy when it wasn’t.

For a long time

I didn’t fall far from her examples

reliving a love that never was….

She never remarried.  Never gave another her heart.

And, when she looked at me,

my easy-going ways,

she was reminded of Daddy and his carefree attitude

that opened doors everywhere he went.

It could not have been easy….

Now with my own children I witness love:

the allowing, accepting, and awareness

that one cannot magically instill onto another,

often times the remains of being pushed,

shoved and discarded as they grow and learn.

Loving hard doesn’t mean enforcing yourself

while possessing their rights to be free

or to be imprisoned by the likes of a human being

as they will turn to reject the reason for this “love.”

Love isn’t Mami and Daddy’s way,

lost in translation of expectations,

words, gestures, and stories

while implementing rules, lies and excuses

for social opinions.

It is conceived from universal freedom,

two souls meeting again and again,

in a tango of beauty, compassion and respect

where nothing is expected

but everything is easily promised through

a contract of Divine light, wisdom,

and tenderness.

Your Inner Child

I was observing our neighbor’s little girl, Sophia, during dinner the other night.  She’s become our town’s little princess.  At six years old she has the charisma and intelligence of an old soul.  I remember being six.  I remember it vaguely.  I wish I could speak to that little chubby girl, Mildred, and assure her of so many things.  I would let her know that by no means she is to give her power, self-esteem, her voice, or anything else other than love to anyone else.

I have few memories of me witnessing the progress of life at that age and marveling at things.  The world seemed so magically grand.  It was even more magical when my father would show up after long absences.  He was my prince charming, never once criticizing anything I did.  Then again, how can he be negative if he was rarely around?

The hardest part of being a human is living without losing yourself in it.  We are born just for the lessons, struggles and challenges.  As children we don’t fear dreaming.  There are unlimited possibilities for the future.  We can be anything and have everything.  Observing little Sophia and her spunk, her lack of reservations and her refreshing innocence I wondered what I would say to myself as a child if I could go back in time.  I also wondered where those wonderful tributes vanish to from childhood.  During the night I dreamt of that little girl, returning to a specific memory of childhood, standing by the dining room table of an old house in Puerto Rico.  The dream turned into this story:

“We spoke briefly last night as I watched her tip-toeing, balancing her chubby body staring at the liquor bottle with the dancer in it that her dad brought home after months of his disappearing act. I laughed at her rhythm trying to be graceful at six years of age and I wanted to tell her to keep trying but I didn’t. I smiled. I laughed. I sat back knowing what I know, speaking short sentences that an intelligent child disregarded as she became enthralled in the dancer and her parents arguing in the kitchen while the French melody from the music box under the bottle muffled the background words. I knelt down to her height staring at the golden bottle while she moved it so the music continued and we shared an intimate moment without words as we knew the outcome of the bottle. We anticipated another Houdini act from the father; another tearful night for the mother. The gifts he always brought were to fill his guilt. I wanted to hold her. I wanted to tell her to let go, to be playful, to not be so responsible; that life has a way of working out.  I wanted to let her know she could trust another but to not loose herself in that dependency.  I held my breath, touched her long brown hair, caressed her round cheeks and said nothing of the sort.  I wanted to let her know that this moment would be implanted in her mind forever — that the dancer will seem like a dream; that she will strive at perfectionism and fail and hurt and despair because she wants to be that perfect, graceful dancer.  She will search for the bottle all her life, searching for prince charming to sweep her away.  I wanted to let her know she could play hard and long and be a great artist and a wonderful and kind woman one day.  I wanted her to hear me say it but I didn’t because those are not her lessons at six years of age.  She will find empty bottles with empty dreams and will work her faith to the core to gather strength to continue on her own.  I wanted her to know that she will be loved and admired; that all the disappointments will bring goodness.  I wanted to warn her about remorse and regrets and not to let them take over her heart; that she will need to forgive many times. I wanted her to understand that life is what you give it not what it gives you; that rules are abstract and cannot be touched but easily broken and to watch her step when breaking one.  Everything is a ripple of lessons weaving into another.  I wanted to tell her with assurance to truly enjoy the journey, to laugh every day and embrace all diversities.  Most of all I wanted to tattoo the light of divinity in her chest.  I sat back on the chair and stared harder at the child who was me.  I smiled at her beautiful brown eyes and winked in certainty that we will be fine. We will meet again and again as I stare at my own children.  I wanted to stay longer and hold her until her deceptions disappeared because I know that she will fight against everything with stubbornness for the rest of our lives.  But, I left her there in my dream, in my memory, in my childhood. I left her there where I will love her always; where I can come and go and tip toe as the dancer back to me.”

 

What would you tell your inner child if you could go back in time?  Please share.  I would love to hear.  May you allow your inner child to stand up and dance today in joy.  Love and light always…Millie

Returning to Innocence

There’s a natural endearing innocence to children.  Their curiosity is breathtakingly admirable.  We forget the wonders of an innocent young mind.  There is a mesmerizing quality to their thoughts and imagination.  If we could just hold on to that simplicity for the rest of our adult life!  How extraordinary the journey would be if we just remained child-like.

Last night we rented a sweet movie called “Salmon Fishing in the Yemen.”  The main character played by Ewan McGregor, is like a small child or one with autism.  His lack of social skills makes him even more innocent.  Sitting through the story I thought about how many times I wish I could just see the world for what it is.  In the movie, the hope and faith of bringing salmon to Yemen from Britain makes one want to go fishing.  Simplicity is so easy but we automatically complicate it.  My mind doesn’t allow for such black and white thoughts.  I tend to go beyond and start to analyze, even when I don’t try to.

Throughout the years, I have watched and witnessed my own children play, laugh, and create wonders from their imaginations.  I have always allowed creativity to be a huge part of their lives.  I encourage them to see the world in more dimensions than the visible one we are accustomed to live in.  In the past few years I have tried to dismiss the rigid structure and ideas I had about my own life.  It is always easier to preach and tell others to live a certain way, but hypocritical not to follow through in our own lives.

'Little Boy' by NelsonMy son, Nelson, took the picture of this little boy on the Greyhound Bus from Miami to Orlando recently.  He knows how much I love pictures of little kids.  I have it on my phone and each time I look at it I am taken to a place of wonder and joy.  What can he be thinking?  How is he seeing the world outside of that window?  Where is his imagination traveling to while he sits on that ride?

So today, after a much busy week, I choose to sit for a little while and marvel at life.  I want to be that little boy staring out the window, witnessing the magic of the world.  I will kick back and stare out the window of my home, while a wedding is taking place in our retreat center.  I choose to laugh and probably cry, as I do in all weddings.   My children have been gone for a week and this house is quiet.  In their absence I will return to my innocence through play and silliness.  I will put my IPOD on dance shuffle and pretend I am a kid again with my round brush as a microphone, standing in front of an invisible audience and belt out to Donna Summer’s Last Dance. After all, being a kid is the best part of growing old.  My body is ready for some fun.

Give yourself the privilege of returning to your innocence.  Play like you mean it.  Dance like if no one was watching. And, sing to your favorite tune!  Life can’t get any sweeter than this….