People Pleasing......................Part One of Two - - - Being authentic....

Nothing depletes our energy and ultimately creates more resentment in our hearts than people pleasing.  This is not to be confused with being a kind, giving, empathetic person. The difference is kind, giving people do it with confidence, from an unconditional open heart, knowing life is about a flow of energy... giving and receiving.   But, if the object of their attentions is unresponsive, abusive,  rude, or takes advantage, after a time, givers stop giving and take care of themselves, or direct their attention where their time and energy is wanted or better served.   People pleasers just keep trying to change other peoples' minds and outcomes.  People pleasers don’t stand up for themselves, tell you what they want, or need.  They’re too afraid you’ll reject them and they’ll be alone, out of a job, or a social outcast.  Healthy givers, do it because it enhances their lives as well.  It's a by-product of self-love, wanting to give back what they are already overflowing with.... life.  It doesn't come from a place of seeking love or being terrified of abandonment.   People pleasers always do it with a personal agenda.   They are unconscious master manipulators, martyrs with seething underlying resentment.   Maybe that agenda isn’t always clear even to them, but its always there underneath the behavior.   

I can say this, because I was a gold medalist at saying/doing anything to keep peace, get you to like me, love me, let me into your inner circle, accept me, spend time with me, or even stay with me.  This did not enhance my life.  People took advantage. I let them, trying to get them to change their mind---- I was a fun person.... I was a good woman, mom, girlfriend, friend, employee.  I deserved to be treated fairly.  I deserved to be respected.  I deserved for my feelings to be considered.  I deserved for my voice to be heard. I deserved to be compensated for my talents or hard work.  I knew all this about myself.  The problem was I never told them.  I was too afraid of losing...  There is this  saying, “We teach people how to treat us.”  I was Teacher of the Year. 

Living like that managed to steal bits of my personality and esteem, trashing my uniqueness and certainly impeded my journey inward to discover who I really was minus someone elses definition of me.    I was relatively wishy-washy about what made me tick.  How could I not be?  I really didn’t know because I was too involved assimilating what made you tick.   A very dear friend of mine told me one time, I was one of those people that rolled out the welcome mat for others dirty feet.  Really insulting way to open my eyes, but it was the beginning..... I knew it on some level too, but when you make your second home a place of fear rather than faith,  it’s hard to see God created you to be treated like He treats you.    On some level I knew that too.  We have the internal gauge we need to navigate an honorable life, and a lot of the time,  I was miserable. It felt dishonorable to the part of me that cried out, to speak up and let my light to shine too.  I didn’t know how to  invite/allow/keep those  people in my life who could see what God saw, and lovingly move away from those that were blind to what I had to offer.  I thought your time was more important, what you thought of me, and what made you tick.  It seeped into all areas of my life, not just intimate relationships.  Like a chameleon, I acquired the attitude/role/part you needed me to play professionally, socially and even spiritually too.   

 I don’t do that anymore.  I’m not even sure when that changed, but it has, slowly and dramatically at the same time.   This thought was triggered by a recent series of nice comments about my authenticity...from more than one person too.  When something is repeated, I’ve learned it behooves me to take a look at it, even/especially the positive comments.  Am I authentic now?  I believe I am.  I will tell you what I think, kindly.  I will allow myself to get angry and tell you when you hurt my feelings... How else will you know?  I will allow myself to recognize the value in my time and my talents and if you don’t see the same value in them, I will give myself permission to move on without regret or fear.    

 I laugh at my arrogance in my thinking that I even had that kind of power to change what you thought of me.  I cry that I would even want to. I’ve learned, when we do stop the people pleasing, the risk is that we lose some relationships, friendships, and perhaps even some security.  We can lose an awful lot of things.  I’ve found in losing, I have won so much more. Real, reciprocal loving relationships, insights into what makes me tick, self-esteem, confidence, and an authentic bio, that I’ve written, not someone else.   Maybe our security needs to come from our trust and faith in our God;  that all will be well, especially if we begin to treat His creation (ourselves)  with the reverence we deserve.  

Jobs, lovers, family, blessings and friendships that are mutually respected and treasured will remain as new ones evolve when I  celebrate authentically who I am, and please myself just as much as I am trying to please you.  

Yes, I do believe my hoop jumping days are over.  I am now giving from a heart that is mine and mine alone.  Finding my voice, moving out of trying to fit into places I don’t,  has allowed for a whole lot of people, places and opportunities that now do fit, to fill that space in my life.  And, that is truly living authentically.

The river of our soul which runs through us is what gives us our animation. - Elizabeth Lesser

Twelve years ago shortly after 9:00 a.m. the best man I have ever known, a beautiful soul, left this world.  He also happened to be my husband.  It was a bright sunny morning, and I remember being struck by how his hair shimmered and his face was bathed in sunlight giving him an angelic look even amidst the suffering.  It just seemed  too beautiful, not the kind of day someone should die.  Yet, if you knew him, you would say it was a perfect way for him to enter his new life.   In the sunlight... in his favorite room in our home.... in my arms.  He was surrounded by his beloved family and a favorite nurse who had become a dear friend.  She reached out way beyond her duties, and brought him comfort and laughter in his final days.  I swear I felt his soul leave his body, and then the room, as I hugged him and hung on tightly.  Along with it, he took a huge piece of my heart.   Only five minutes earlier I had whispered into his ear,  “Give my mom a big hug from me when you see her.”  In that moment, I thought everything that had brought any meaning to my life was gone forever. 

I’ve spent a good number of the years since his death in survival mode, limping along. I began filling the empty hole, that spot where the other half of my heart used to live, with anything I could find to stop the bleeding.  A little busyness, a lot of workaholism, some over-achievement, food, and a few relationships that hauled in a whole lot of drama.  Drama is a great way to avoid the grief process and dull the pain.  You don’t feel much when your life is in a constant state of turmoil and uncertainty. Just about the time the ache sets in, you manage to align yourself with some new crisis or addiction that diverts you from stopping, facing it head on, and walking through those stages;  denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.... step, by painful step. I stayed stuck in phase one, denial.  I was convinced if I stopped for too long, the pain would overtake me and I would be trapped in a limbo land of chronic grief and spiritual death. So I stayed, hung out... put my blinders on and settled in. 

I didn’t realize by staying there, I was not honoring the man who actually showed me what true love looks like. I wanted to forget, how it felt inside my spirit to be with another soul who calls forth the best in you.  I think we all already possess our gifts, but being with the one you are supposed to be, takes them off the shelf, polishes them all up, and walks with you hand in hand as you share them with the rest of the world.   After his death, I took the gifts we shared, and stashed them away.  I became a hoarder; holding onto his legacy, keeping it locked up, along with so many of those good qualities he brought out in me, all to myself. 

He believed in me.  I made him smile, and laugh.  He told me this every single week for 18 months via a card in the mail, while he was away, going to school.  It became a contest to see who could pick out the most humorous, outrageous cards.  I have the best collection of Far Side cards known to man. His favorite humor... oh, so sarcastic, and "sic".  I loved it, it suited me too.   We compared notes when he came home on the weekends, sharing the events of our respective week with each other.  I helped him study and became a whiz at Anatomy,   incorporating body parts in our conversations as a learning tool for him.  He told me my Patella’s were the finest he'd ever seen.   We treasured our moments; learned how to be mindful  long before it was a buzz word, savoring the minutes of our time together.  We planned adventures and  trips. We had long talks in the hot tub, reciprocally sharing our bucket lists and dreams; encouraged our differences and celebrated our similarities.  He taught me to step outside my comfort zone, lighten up in my frugality, have some fun. I taught him that the best things in life don’t always have a price tag.  He taught me to work harder at not judging others because we haven’t walked in their shoes.  I taught him it was safe to share secrets, and be who we truly are because sometimes we help others most when we are honest about the paths we’ve traveled.  Through his long, painful illness, he taught me what it means to have limitless faith and be optimistic no matter what. I taught him that often the greatest gift we can give someone else is to be still and receive... their support, their offerings, their help and their love.  We traded roles, from student to teacher and back to student again. We reminded each other, everything is in the hands of a Higher Power and our life together would be greatly enhanced if we let it remain there. 

Maybe on that beautiful sunny morning, 12 years ago, when I felt the movement of Mark’s spirit, it wasn’t his soul departing.  Perhaps it was a part of his soul entering and infusing mine with his animation, so I could pay it forward.  I like to think so now.  It’s been a long journey.   Maybe using those things we taught one another, those blessings... perhaps it's time to venture out there, love another again, help others to polish their gifts too, serve, and live the remainder of my days, with the same energy and joy I did when he was alive. It’s an aspiration and it would be an honor.....   

This realization has been a long time coming.  I’ve talked for years about THE BOOK.... My story... our story.  His life was so much about helping others, perhaps this is one way that his animation, wholly alive, inside of me, his legacy,  can live on.  This, is the year of sharing my experience.  Two steps forward, ten back, ultimately getting there, walking out into the daylight, no need for something to fill the hole in my heart.  It’s no longer damaged and broken.  It’s healed, and whole, and ready to give back and be joyfully used again. 

Dream no small dreams for they have no power to move the hearts of men.... Goethe

THINK BIG!! 

I heard this several times last week.  Since God generally speaks to me through others, I am thinking this is something I need to pay attention to. Especially, when it comes from people who genuinely love me.  The icing on the cake, it was reiterated by someone I haven’t really had more than a superficial relationship with for many, many years.  Was it that apparent?   Oh, it was said with kindness, caring, and a sincere desire to be helpful.    It went something like this... “I think you’re a terrific writer, but your talent is being wasted in the places you are sending it.  You need to THINK  BIG!  Sell yourself.  You have too much talent to be spinning your wheels right where you are at.  Take some bigger risks.”   Touche’.   Looking back, he wasn’t the first person to have said this to me. “Think Bigger”.  I kept hearing it over and over everywhere I turned.  In readings, on some of my podcasts and reviewing past conversations... with family members as well as a few  friends.   All these messages were like the pesky ghost of past, present and future all invading my private spaces.  I told them all... they just didn’t understand..... how hard I’d been working and how optimistic I’ve been.   

I haven’t thought big for decades.  When I was a child, I dreamed of being the next Amelia Earhart.  Better yet, the tormented author, sitting in a little Bistro in Paris. There I was, puffing really long cigarettes encased in a pearlized holder, tossing back shots of some hot liqueur; the kind that burned all the way down and chased the images out and onto my page of paper.  My imagination could take off and run with that scenario.   That’s one big dream that did come true.  At least the part about being tormented and tossing back the shots. 

I’m not saying I’m not a hopeful person:  my positive thinking has navigated me through many a maze.   I’m determined, and a very focused.  When I find something I want to sink my teeth into, I give it my all.  I just don’t stretch myself beyond, into the realm of what might lie out there, in the land of much more. After all, it could be painful, rejection is a searing white flame to the ego.   I think of it like my Yoga practice, I bend and move and do the posture, never quitting; but I don’t breathe into the pain, and those places that will take me further into the move and ultimately greater rewards. 

I’ve had a lot of excuses for not thinking bigger.  My brain chastises me and says, it’s just not humble.   But, is it really humility to downplay our gifts and not strive to become all that we are meant to be and do?  Is it honoring Him to play ourselves small?  Isn’t that tantamount to playing Him small too?

What’s really going on here?  Some residual unworthiness that needs vacuumed out once and for all?  Perhaps the thought of actually having some bigger success might then evoke an accountability I don’t think I am ready for?  If I have faith and believe things happen when they are supposed to, I have to assume I would be ready for all that comes with it.  It all boils down to, again... faith. What’s there to lose then by thinking bigger?  

Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.... Isn’t that my word of the year?  I can’t be free if I limit myself to my comfort zone. 

This week, I made a decision to THINK BIGGER.  I stretched myself a little farther, came up with a game plan and acted on a few things outside of the realm of my safety net.  So, far, so good.  I put together a dream board and an action plan, combining the best of my heart and my mind.  I know just thinking BIG isn’t enough.  I know in order to gain momentum, I need to ACT BIG too.  It’s just time, to try something different.  Someone once told me its not enough to never, ever quit.  If you keep using the same methods and have the same results, then it’s time to never, ever quit... trying something different.  I am going to try to THINK BIGGER.

Self Worth comes from one thing... thinking you are worthy - Dr. Wayne Dyer

In a conversation recently with one of  my young friends who I love dearly, (and admire), the topic of self-worth arose.  She surprised me when she said, “Someone asked me one time, don’t you think you’re worth more than that?”  She said her response was one of genuine bewilderment when she answered her friend,  “Worth more?  What’s that mean?”  While I could totally relate to her sentiments, I was incredibly sad to witness the ravages of a childhood and young adulthood, similar to my own.  One in which you have no examples, direction, or tools to understand or cultivate the knowledge that you are deserving. Neither one of us learned all we had to do is claim it,  and stop settling for sloppy seconds, better than nothings, and others judgements and opinions of us.  

 I had no idea what it meant to honor my intuition, feelings, and respect myself enough to act and speak in accordance with my reality. I was too afraid, driven by what everyone else thought of me.  How you defined me, and what you said to me was more important than what I knew to be the truth. I looked into your eyes, and went to your well to quench my thirst for approval and worthiness. If you told me I would never amount to anything, I believed you.  If you told me I wasn’t the prettiest or the smartest, I believed that too. If you said, my talent was mediocre, or my work wasn’t good enough, I bought into that as well.  It held me hostage. I often hung onto things that were dishonorable for me in my attempts to get you to change your mind about me and gain your approval. Or, worst of all, I settled, because some demon inside told me this was all there was, and it was better than nothing. That demon had plenty of space to move around in because there was nothing in me to contradict it.  Oh, occasionally, others compliments fell into the hole and filled me up for a short while, but the demon inside was bigger and a real bully.    As a result, my life was a series of choices made from a place of fear and lack rather than faith and abundance. It's just a Universal Law; when we make choices out of fear, we attract more of it into our lives.  The Law of Attraction doesn’t attract what we want, it attracts to us, what we are.  If we live full of fear we attract that and many of its cousins; neediness, anxiety, loss of identity, dishonesty, and dependance. 

I don’t think we’re born this way.  I think we all enter the world with this tiny seed of confidence, wisdom, knowing our own unique greatness.  Somehow, that gets siphoned off early on,  from others who have nothing inside either, and need your light. So, when do you know you’ve  crossed the line and moved to the wrong side of the tracks?  When your needs are not being met and your soul is crying out for acknowledgment.  When you’re not content with the arrangement, job, treatment, or relationship as it is. When you walk around feeling like your whole life is a lie and it becomes unbearable to live that way any longer. When you find you’re making excuses to yourself and others, doing things you don’t feel comfortable doing, fitting into spaces that aren't your size.  When you are unable to speak up honestly about how you think and feel, you are probably operating from a place of fear.  People with self-worth won’t live there... at least not for long.  It just doesn’t contribute to our authenticity and actions that help us to engage our Higher selves. It doesn’t cultivate peace or any real joy in our lives.  

So, how do we begin to nurture ourselves and cultivate the kind of self-worth that enables us to plant our own gardens, and decorate our own souls, {Veronica Shoffstall- Comes the Dawn}.  First, by recognizing, it’s not the accomplishments we make, how we look, the initials after our name, who we know, who we sleep with,  what we do, or what we have.  If that was the case, the extreme rate of suicide, addiction, bad behavior, and unhappiness amongst celebrities, athletes, and politicians would be non-existent.  Second, by simply knowing, we are a creation of the Creator and that alone makes us worthy.  We don’t have to earn it, we just need to own it and honor it. We honor it by being who we are and accepting that is not only enough, it’s fabulous. We honor it by accepting our differences as a part of what makes the stained glass window of our souls so lovely in our diversity and talents. We honor it by being honest about where we’ve been, trusting many others have been there before too, and secrets make us fearful and very sick. We honor it by stating what we need. And, we honor it, by granting the same considerations to our fellow travelers in this life.    

Eventually, you find that you are no longer willing to be, do, or accept anyone else’s definition of you.  You are no longer waiting in the wings for someone’s approval, time, attention or love.  You no longer accept unacceptable behavior.  You no longer are stuck in relationships, jobs, and out-dated beliefs that don't bring out the best in you.  It’s taken me almost a half a century to discover my self-worth.  I pray it won’t take her that long. I don’t think it will. I am now the observer watching her peel back the layers, beginning to reveal her secrets only to find out they were someone else’s secrets too, and they don’t determine whether or not she is deserving.

What a beautiful way to live. 

Still Examining While Engaging a Little of the WooHoo

Happy New Year !  I started a new blog.  I'm maintaining this one as well.  After all, I'm a work in progress.   As Socrates said, “The unexamined life is not worth living.”  I am inclined to agree with him.  I wrote my own obituary one time.  It was an exercise suggested to me by an outstanding therapist, friend, and human being.  I was blessed to know him.  In my obit, I wrote, “She entered the world an old soul, eyes wide open; inquisitively searching for the meaning of this life from the instant she took her first breath.”  That’s true.  My curiosity and mind are rarely idle.

I forgot though, I also added to my greatly embellished obituary, the following description of this old soul, “It has been said, when she was quite small, she was a true free spirit, willing to try anything once (the very first in her kindergarten class to climb to the top of the monkey bars.  She was unafraid of the price, and always sought adventure.” 

So, it’s time in 2012 to practice the art of the woohoo.  Once a week, the end of the week, we’ll see what shakes out.  I know its a great exercise in mindfulness, paying attention to those moments, big and small.  It’s also a great exercise in abundance.  How much do we take for granted, mostly unwittingly?  I have no expectations and no plans to contrive my idea of a woohoo.  There will be no orchestration, control, or woohoo by design.   My plan is to simply be awake to the delights, be spontaneous, and take a few risks, if that’s called for.  There is a beautiful world of abundance just waiting for me to tap into it.  I think I will. 

You will find my first woohoo for the New Year at the link below.

 http://www.52weeksofwoohoo.blogspot.com

I hope this exercise of mine sparks something in you as well.  Pay attention, be open, be real, seize the moment, live, laugh, love.  All together now..................

WooHoo!  

Word of the Year - 2012

I gave up New Year’s resolutions a few years ago.  I know goal setting is important, but I make it so complex.  I’m demanding too, harder on myself than I am on anyone else.  Often I get to the end of the year, only to face the truth;  I haven’t lost the same 20 pounds I've been trying to lose for years, nor run a marathon, and still haven’t made the New York Times bestseller list.   Maybe subliminally, I make  the list so long and demanding, no human power would be able to succeed. Sometimes new experiences, success and the change that accompanies it, can be rather frightening too.  Yet, there was another side to it. I discovered so much on my list, was out of my control. That revelation was  a deep breath of fresh air actually. I can do the legwork, but expecting specific outcomes wasn't to be part of my job description.  For example, to sell a house in a recessed market and community was an unreasonable expectation. Even employment was at the whims of other people and the Universe.  How much is in our control?  Very little.  That manner of goal setting wasn't working for me and I’m kinder to me these days.  I have some “loose goals” now.  When I do put a few on paper, I name it my “wish list” rather than my “resolutions”. 

This end of the year/beginning of the new year soul-searching has evolved into something that works much better for me.  I spend some time in meditation and prayer, sit down with my little worksheet, and allow the word to drift into my consciousness.    A single word or two, like a mantra, that can be a point of focus  as I navigate a brand new year.  Last year, that word was BLOSSOM.  Now, the first week of January 2011, I did start the year off blossoming in a really visible way. My tired, stressed out body, overtaxed my immune system and  I sprouted shingles.  On my face, of all places, and I was confined to the house for the first few weeks of the New Year.  That really wasn’t what I had in mind.  Yet, somehow that solitary time alone honing in on what it means to me to BLOSSOM,  jettisoned my determination to continue to cultivate my talents, take my  spirituality to another level, and rediscover my joy.  That single word served me well.  In my undertakings, major as well as minor, I consistently asked the question, “Is this action, belief, person, or endeavor, going to allow me to continue to open up to life and BLOSSOM into the soul my Creator wants me to be?” I’ve gotten to the end of the year, and have deemed it a success.  I have blossomed.  I’m not the same human spirit I was in January of 2011.  I’ve changed: given up some really bad habits, learned to trust my intuition, burned the doormat, grown closer to others, opened my arms wide to opportunity and the world, rather fearlessly.  I’ve taken some big risks, and put myself out there farther than I ever have in my life.   I worked hard, although it didn’t seem so much like work.  It felt more like holding the intention (word) in my mind and heart and just doing what I was led to do, day by day, step by step and letting it all manifest in its own time.  I’ve forgiven what needed forgiven, accepted what needed accepted, and invited in the Grace that was just waiting for me to ask.  BLOSSOM served me well in 2011.  

I began the process of my word for 2012, and thought I was thorough in my examination and had even selected the word.  Somehow, when I repeated, it just didn’t fit, although in my head I wanted it to.  It was such a nice word.  One I could see taking off in a number of lovely directions.  I could imagine what the word would bring to me.  And, that’s where the unease set in.  I was trying to control the choice of the word with this expected outcome, and visions of how it would play out and serve me in the future.  Because I was working it in my head, I knew it  couldn’t be my word for 2012.  It was contrived.  It needed to be one that rose to the surface, outside of my expectations and control.  What then was my word to be?

Asking for guidance through prayer and meditation and then paying attention, being mindful to the signs around us, always reveals our answer.  At first, it was just a little nudge.... the word.  It sounded strange in the context I saw it in.  It arrived in the mail in the form of a Christmas card.  The sentiment, in part read, “Onto the New Year.  I hope it brings you happiness, joy and freedom.”  Freedom?  From what?  The word jumped out at me.  Where had I heard that word used before, and recently too?  

Right before Christmas, a very special person I hadn’t seen in a few years, paid me a visit.  We had an unexpectedly profound, honest, talk and the conversation and connection clung to me  for the next few days like the sweet scent of my favorite perfume.  I have to claim it as one of the highlights of my season.  The gift of undivided attention and communicating between hearts, is one of the most precious things another can give us.   Later that evening,  posted on my Facebook wall, was the single sentence, “Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.”My holiday angel left me that.  I got it. It was the icing on our conversation with a great big cherry served up on top.  I knew.  

My word for 2012 is FREEDOM.  I’m not really sure where the word will lead me or even how to apply it to my days, but I know that’s the word.  It’s none of my business where it takes me.  As I move through the brand New Year, I am sure I will  continue to ask the question, often, “Does this action, belief, person, or endeavor create FREEDOM in this life of mine?”  I’m not going to put an expectation on how it’s all going to play out.  It’s more of an adventure to let the word take me, rather than me taking the word.  It seems perfect somehow.  You can't be free when you are still trapped inside the bud. You don't even know what it feels like...the warm air, the sunlight on your face, the joy of stretching.  First, you blossom, then you're free. 

May you find your word in the New Year and allow it to manifest your heart's desires.  Happy 2012! Celebrate. Believe. Prosperity. Peace.  

Rejoice!

Merry Christmas to All! Someone shared this with me and it made my day. 

  May your 2012 be filled with surprises, joy and spontaneity!  Enjoy! 

In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit. -Albert Schweitzer

This holiday I am feeling really blessed to have this monster house.  I haven’t felt that way for the greater part of 4-5 years now, escalating over the last year.  I see a house that is way too big for one person, peeling paint, an older roof and antique windows.  I see an overwhelming financial burden with a work load and commitment too big for one person to handle. Most of all I feel trapped by the housing crisis, unable to unload and move on.  The American Dream of home ownership has become my American Nightmare.   Sure, I could shirk my responsibilities and walk away, many have been forced to, and have, but that doesn’t align with accountability, integrity, and right living for me, not yet.  If I expect to draw that kind of positive energy into my life, I have to be that too; honorable, responsible, honest.  Trapped between the angel on my right shoulder which says in a soft, sweet voice, “Don’t give up hope. Keep trying.”  And, the devil on my left, whose tone is gruff and flippant and screams, “The hell with it, those same financial institutions holding  mortgages created much of this mess we are in to begin with.  Just walk away.”  It’s harder to hear the softer voice sometimes and would be easier to pay heed to the self-serving demanding one.  Especially when one is really, really worn out.  Right now, I am. 

However, my grandchildren don’t see any of that.   My middle granddaughter, Sydney, told one of my co-workers last week, that I live in a mansion!   My immediate response, “A dilapidated old mansion!”  Sydney looked at me puzzled. Later that evening, the three of them arrived to spend the night. They looked around in awe at the Christmas lights and decorations inside my Albatross.  I’m borrowing their rose colored glasses!  They saw a palace - a thing of beauty.  They saw how lovely the backyard looks from my kitchen bay window, all snow covered, the trees frosted white.  They saw the mystical beauty of the den, fireplace roaring, stockings hung by the chimney with care, soft Christmas lights twinkling, making the room a magical spot.  They did not see peeling paint, dated flooring, or old windows.    I see a house.  They see a home full of love, laughter, comfort, and a dash of Christmas magic. They saw. Then, I saw. Many joyous times, have been lived in this house. My fire was lit.  I can apply a coat of paint, fill the house with people and make some more memories for the time I am here. 
   

Recently, I found myself stuck again professionally, second-guessing my efforts over the last few years as well as what I intuitively know is my gift.  I’ve been thinking from my ego rather than letting my inner guide direct me.  My work has felt false; contrived, rather than coming from the place my best words arise from.  I’ve also learned, when I look to things of this world to fuel me; verification and approval from others, outside opinions, and monetary reinforcement to validate God’s plan, I am then moving out of faith into fear.     I could see that, but it was almost from a different plane, like the ghost of me was trying to tap the human in me on the shoulder and say stop!  I could see it.  I didn’t know how to stop it.  A few days ago, a brightly decorated Christmas envelope arrived and inside was a book.  It’s title , theWarofArt - Break Through the Blocks and Win Your Inner Creative Battles.  The inscription on the inside read:

Becky,

I’ve read this many times over.  I feel I have finally “conquered” what the words taught me and I felt a deep need for you to keep it safe for me.  In case I forget and need it again someday--- throw it back my way.  Much Love, Meg

   

Just in case you are thinking, well, it’s Christmas, why wouldn’t holiday gifts arrive, you need to know that this book uncannily identifies my recent mood, names my fears, and provides a suggested plan for moving out of that place.  Moreover, the gift was passed on by a beautiful, young, 20 something artist from Chicago, who I watched grow up.  A wise beyond her years young woman, I haven’t seen, nor talked to her in quite a long time. As I drank in the messages of the book, the wisdom of those who have walked the same path, was kindling to my desire to continue down my path, no matter what obstacles appear to distract and block me. 

The Universe works together, with, and through others, to draw forth our purpose, and  fan that ember of creativity, appreciation, and perseverance when we've lost sight of what's important.  What beautiful gifts we receive from the eyes and words of other people.    A new way of looking at things, inspiration, good wishes, and lots of love, even from those who are not with us anymore. 

 The other night before bed I was lounging in the big chair in my den, walking down happy Christmas memory lane, sitting for a little visit with so many of my loved ones who aren’t on this earth anymore.  Sifting through my treasure chest of remembrance, I discovered a stash of candles left behind by all them, made just for me, to help light my way.  I can pull them out and hold them up anytime I choose. One of them had imprinted on them, “You can do anything you set your mind to do,” a gift from a dear grandmother-in-law.  Another read,  simply,” I believe in you.” And, another, “Just do your best, but do it.”  Another read, “Follow your heart.  You are worthy of so much more than you know.”  That one was a gift from my mother just a year before she died.  I know this was all triggered by the dream I had the night before.  In the dream was a former boss who had passed away, much too young.  This gentleman had a profound influence on my life both professionally, and became a good family friend outside of the workplace.  He was an example of integrity, Christian faith, and leadership to both me and my young daughter.  He has been gone for over 20 years. In the dream he looked wonderful; younger, happy, like himself only with an indescribable glow. I was so excited to see him and asked why he was visiting.  He said to me, “I heard you needed some light.”  His candle read, “Trust your intuition and let that be your guide.” 

We are all God’s agents assigned the task of fanning the spark that exists in each of us.  We are here to help each other to find our way, see the beauty and discern our worth in the world we live in.  We are here to do for others sometimes, what they cannot do for themselves. 

Thank you Sydney, Cameron and Alex.  Thank you my living angel, Meg, and all those others who surround me, guiding and watching over me from afar. I am beginning to trust that I always get what I need when I need it, if I simply live from the heart rather than the head. I continue to be humbled and amazed at the immense power and timelessness of Universal love which gently asks of us that we return the favor someday and be another human being's firemaker. 

Holiday Traditions

I know, I say this every year, so bear with me.... I LOVE the Holidays!  What’s not to love?  First, people are genuinely kinder and for a few weeks at least we get fun mail in the form of Christmas cards.  Who doesn’t enjoy seeing the lights twinkling everywhere, enchanting and mesmerizing. I think the best part of all, is the food.  It’s like being transported back to ancient Rome, voluptuous banquet tables laden with food.... minus the vomitoriums. If you build it(the buffet table), I will come. Give me your luscious leftovers, tins of homemade goodies, and party trays.   I got an email newsletter from Dr. Oz today entitled, Making Wise and Healthy Holiday Food Choices. This time of year, lets save the wisdom for baby Jesus’ three visitors from the East.  Healthy and Holiday are not even on the same food pyramid. I mean, seriously, I’m going to choose celery sticks and grape tomatoes over baby quiches and buckeyes?  For one month I don’t want to think about the caloric content of that delectable puff pastry I just popped into my mouth, or the homemade caramels my brother-in-law spends hours lovingly making and wrapping. Besides, it’s tradition to enjoy those once a year treats. It’s also tradition to gain 7 pounds; a conservative number. I always start out January 1st with a pork and sauerkraut commitment to salads and hitting the gym seven days a week for the next few months.  You can’t mess with tradition.  

Thanksgiving morning, brings a decades long tradition of tuning into the Macy’s Day Parade.  I usually listen to most of it, background noise, while I prepare food for the feast.  When Santa arrives in all his red and white glory, everything in my world grinds to halt and I sit, watching, mesmerized, eyes glistening, as the jolly old elf pulls up in his sleigh, happily waving at me and all the other good little boys and girls. I think the tears arise from seeing the faces of the little ones, innocent wonder and awe reflected in their eyes. Perhaps for that brief moment, I too can believe in magic and dreams come true again.  My tears too, are just tradition. 

Another tradition is Black Friday shopping with my daughter. We’ve been doing it for a number of years now.  She started it.  Post Thanksgiving dinner, we review the mountain of ads, identifying the best bargains, come up with a strategic attack and argue over the time we’ll don our armour (the lighter the better)and leave for battle.  She always wants to leave early, really early.   I whine no matter what time she picks.  The whining is tradition too. She arrives at my house 3- 4 am, irritatingly peppy in a caffeine altered state, and by 5 am, I’m maniacally grinning ear to ear too,  elbowing my way through the crowds.  Arms overflowing, hangers dangling from my fingertips and some monster Barbie toy tucked between my legs.  Off and running, I trot, waddling like a sack racer through lines that stretch clear back to the loading dock of the store.  Shopping carts on Black Friday are non-existent.  The up side of waiting in line for two hours to check out, is folks get tired, change their minds, or their arm muscles simply give out and they drop that one item you came to the store to obtain. I’ve recovered more than one treasure waiting in line!  That one gets tucked into the only available space on my body, under my chin.  By the end of the day, my thigh muscles have become so toned, I could crack the walnuts for the Christmas cookies we’ll be baking the next week with 'em!  

Cookie burning is a tradition too. I’m not a baker.  My family roll their eyes behind my back whispering, “She can mix, she can cut-out, she can decorate, but, whatever you do, don’t let her bake ‘em!”   No matter how much I beg for them to give me one more chance, they bring out the black mail pictures, an ugly reminder of the ghost of Christmas cookies past.  What a horrific sight captured forever;  twisted masses of candy cane cookie dough, burnt, hardly recognizable, soldered onto the cookie sheet.  Downright frightening. I am, however, allowed to cook.  That I do well.  But, when it comes time for the Christmas dinner rolls to be baked, my son-in-law stands guard over the crescent dough.  If I can distract him long enough to pop them in the oven, I inevitably  burn them, year after year. He scrapes the scorched bottoms off and glares at me through dinner.  Burnt rolls. It’s just part of Christmas dinner tradition.

    

Every family has their special traditions:  Quirky, kind, loving, sentimental, solemn or silly.  Traditions help us to feel secure, connect us, and provide a scrapbook of memories for future generations.  Traditions are an important part of our holiday celebrations.  They are like a road map we follow carefully so we don’t lose important bits of our past. They teach our children about where they came from and where they're going.   Someday in the not too distant future, my granddaughters will be making fun of their mom, who every year, on Black Friday, will whine about getting up so early to catch the latest bargains.  It’s just tradition, and she’s learned it well! 

The greatest act of faith takes place when a man finally decides that he is not God. - Johann Wolfgang Goethe

Coming to believe, making the decision and conscious contact...... My emerging love affair with God...

I grew up in a traditional Christian faith, a denomination whose doctrine was relatively  rigid and really intimidating.  I rarely felt home there, and so many of the beliefs, I just couldn’t wrap my mind around.  Even at a young age, they didn’t make sense to me.  If God was so powerful and created everything, why would he act like an insolent child and with the stamp of His big foot, destroy the world?  Sure, people were acting in an unrighteous manner, but isn’t He supposed to be above the pettiness of retribution and judgment? After all, He’s God!   And what about His forgiveness message? I need to forgive others to be forgiven?   Didn’t that apply to Him too? Turning folks into pillars of salt, or condemning them to eternal flames didn’t sound particularly compassionate.   To me, He acted like a big bully.   I can’t say I didn’t believe in God, because I did.  I just really didn’t like Him much.  I attributed any suffering in my life as His punishment, doled out because I was a bad person.  The Bible alluded to that,  and I probably couldn’t pay enough dues, nor would there be enough of Jesus' blood for me to gain admittance into heaven anyhow.  I later decided, I really wouldn’t enjoy heaven much anyway since the folks that were going to get in, were obviously brown nosers.... and it must be just a big clique based on favorites and exclusivity, not really much different than life on earth.    There was enough dishonesty, judgment, and anger already present in my life, and if that’s what folks were all about that entered the kingdom, it wasn’t for me.  This idea of calling Him my Heavenly Father was absurd too.  He was sure doing a lousy job of taking care of His child (me) in my mind,  and frankly a real poor example.  Did He walk like He talked?  No way.  If that was what God and religion were all about,  well, who needed it! 

 For many years, I drifted after cutting the cord of my childhood faith and dipped my toe into the fountains of one religious affiliation after another. No immersion for me, just a short visit to review the particulars of each one's varied beliefs.   When any scent of punishment or damnation entered the picture,  I would be off and running in my quest to find a God of love.  I seriously traveled many spiritual roads; from TV evangelists, to the study of other religions, until one would disappoint, again, in their imperfection and humanness.  Perhaps man may have been created in God’s image, but I didn’t want my God to think like man!  I just knew I was better off taking care of my own business because there wasn’t any tangible support coming my way - not from Him, not from anyone.  

I thought I was doing a fine job of it, until I got into a little trouble in my late 20’s with alcohol.  As I spun out of control leaving a wake of destruction in the path of those who had the unfortunate sentence of being a part of my life, I began to recognize, this was something even I couldn’t manage to take care of on my own.  All my attempts at self-control, discipline, and will-power were failing miserable.  I was in a real predicament.  Praying to THAT God of my childhood was not an option for me here either.   At the lowest ebb of my darkness of the soul, I cried out to ANYTHING out there, literally,  and asked for reinforcement.  Seems the plea sounded like this... “If there is something out there,  please help me. I can’t do this myself.”  From that point forward, my problem with alcohol was lifted.   It wasn’t until several years later I recognized what had happened.  Twelve step groups are based on a series of suggested instructions for release from the bondage of addictions, self will run riot, and hopeless lives, providing a pathway towards rebirth, and serenity.  The First Step asks me to surrender and recognize my powerlessness over alcohol, life, food, relationships, (pick your poison). No doubt, I was powerless.  The Second Step asks me to come to believe there is a power greater than me (totally against everything I was taught but what were my options) who could restore me to sanity. The Third Step asks me to just make the decision to turn my will and my life over to A power greater than me.  It doesn’t define that greater power.... It doesn’t say, it’s God, Jesus, Buddha, Lao Tzu, the Republican Party or the current man of the day. It doesn’t tell me I have to be good enough before He’ll help.  It doesn’t even say it’s a He. Just a power greater than me.  The simple acknowledgment that there actually could  be SOMETHING greater than myself, was enough to set into motion the best journey of my life; seeking  a God who works for me in ways that create an environment of love, kindness, flexibility, honesty, growth, and evolution.  This God is the God of my understanding.  Not my daughter’s, my neighbors, Moses, the Dali Lama, Buddha, or the Christian Church.  Instead, a God I have come to know as pure love, present in my life always, revealing Himself (or Herself depending on whether dudes are in my good graces that day- it doesn't matter, I can't put a label on God) through others, nature, and acts of generosity, compassion, and love.  What a beautiful beginning... 

Step Eleven came about a few years into my pursuit of the Twelve Steps, and this new found God of my understanding.   Step Eleven asks me to “Seek through prayer and meditation to improve my conscious contact.”   This is not a chore for me. This is where the joy comes in.   I know now, all those years of questioning and conflict have simply brought me to a place where I yearn to move closer and closer in my relationship with my God.  There is a lovely Sufi saying which says, "Our longing for God is God’s longing for us."  I believe we are all born into this world with that longing. It may get hidden under layers of fear based teachings designed to keep the masses in check, but  that desire for relationship calls us home, and asks of us that we just recognize that there is a God, and we aren’t it. Then, the fun begins.    

Religious Beliefs are as unique to an individual as fingerprints.  Sadly, we live in a World of intolerance.  We attach labels to people and their faith - He’s a Muslim.  She’s Catholic.  He’s a Buddhist, or a Spiritualist.  We have so many versions of suggested pathways to God.   Christianity in itself has too many denominations to count.  I used to  wonder if they all read from the same Bible, each one interpreting it from the mind and voice of man and a diversity of personal opinion.  I wonder how many people are sacrificed at the altar of Religion because of  close-mindedness, judgment, and attempts at control through fear.   Fear never works as a motivator, not in the long haul.   Fear is the Petri dish of intolerance, hatred, isolation, and a myriad of other ugly byproducts like deception, dishonesty, murder and war.  My God is a God of love, and love alone.  My God would never be a champion of any of that.  My God works for me and in me, to create the kind of human being I want to project to the world.   I'm not perfect, but I do now have a goal.  And that goal is to think like God thinks, one day at a time.   In order for me to do that, I can't afford to entertain those qualities that arise from man - fear based judgments and territorial teachings.  

I have come to know, in an intimate manner, there  is a Power Greater and I'm not it.  Thank God.  Because I'm not it, means I have no right to impose, or judge others Power Greater.  All those years.... walking away from the God of "my religion's" understanding has led me to a better, more honorable place for me.  One of awe, faith and joy.  It's brought me to a place where I can take what I need from the roots of my childhood religion and discard the rest.  I enjoy gathering with like minded others in the worship of our Creator in many places.   I just tune out the judgment parts and keep my eyes on the examples of His LOVE in the cross of Jesus,  and the faces of those who have found a God of their understanding.   CS Lewis says it best:  "A man can no more diminish God’s glory by refusing to worship Him than a lunatic can put out the sun by scribbling the word, “darkness” on the walls of his cell." I believe that and I believe God reveals Himself in many beautifully different and divine ways. 

I choose a God of Love as the God of my understanding.  May you recognize you can choose what works for you too.  If you're struggling to find one, you can borrow mine until you  find your own.  My God loves you deeply too!