Some people try to turn back their odometers. Not me, I want people to know why I look this way. I’ve traveled a long way and some of the roads weren’t paved. - Will Rogers

6 Continents in 60 Years! 

I was privileged to attend one of the most entertaining and delectable  birthday parties a few weeks ago. The birthday boy turned 60 and decided to throw a bash for a few hundred of his closest friends and family. It was an exceptionally generous gesture on his part and a real shin-dig (old person’s term for quite an event).  The theme of the party, was to share his wanderlust experiences with friends and family-   6 continents in his 60 years.  He's indulged in the majority of his exploration  in the last decade and a half, right around that mid-life mark.  A time, when many of us in that demographic begin to hear Peggy Lee warble in our heads, “Is that all there is?  Is that all there is?  If that’s all there is my friends... then let’s keep dancing. Let’s break out the booze and have a ball.”  My friend didn’t break out the booze; he broke out his National Geographic caliber photography AND cuisine, native to each of the continents he visited, sharing his phenomenal experiences with all of us.  Around the perimeter of the party room were six stations, each one showing off beautiful photographs of his trips as well as tables laden with the food of the continent.  Of course the European table with its spectacular, art gallery quality shots of the Alps and beyond, was my personal favorite- --the table was laden with exotic imported meats and cheeses. Cheeses of all colors and textures! Heaven! South America wasn't my personal favorite, but food is my friend, and I sampled it too.   Now, China, India, and Africa were excellent, but, Antarctica revealed the most delicious crab cakes with Dijon dill sauce.  Believe it or not, even I would visit there despite the below, below, freezing temperatures.  I hate the cold.  But the privilege of partaking in the most breathtaking natural views on the planet, would more than make up for shivering myself silly.  The older I get, the less I discount any door that opens,  viewing most of life as just a series of wonderful opportunities.  I do think this is one of the bigger blessings of aging  and I embrace and surrender to the unknown, most every day.  Aren’t we supposed to get more set in our ways as we age?  I think not.  

I have been pondering this aging gig recently as I approach the BIG 60 too!  Glimpses of Mother Time flit through the brain every time I put my make-up on in the morning, or am only able to be a freestanding "tree” in my Yoga practice by gently touching my finger tips to something  for balance.  Best yet, when I am referred to as a person “with much experience,” I can read between those lines, and sense I am being viewed as a geriatric.  Ouch. My baby girl is turning 40 and my oldest granddaughter will be a teenager in two months. I clearly remember my mom looking into my unlined face, way, way back... when she was dying at the ripe old age of 51, and saying, “I look in the mirror and see myself as a young woman.”  I know what she meant by that - --no matter how old, we still dream of adventure, need love, and hope to be accepted for who we are.  What I don’t think is particularly healthy, is wanting to be the same person, looking and thinking the same as I did in my 20’s, 30’s, or 40’s.... For one thing, it’s far too much work! I have a whole lot more free time these days to do the things I love rather than maintaining the illusions of my youth.  My head-turner days are over, and that is a breath of fresh air. I call the shots now rather than placing myself at the disposal of the whims and opinions of others. I am much more interested in turning, and softening hearts.   

In my 20’s it was all about how I looked, and how I used, this youthful, sexual energy and power of a quick mind, firm body, and face that women, in their younger years possess.   Back then I believed it was the best thing in my toolbox as it allowed me to attract what I thought I wanted in my life.  I imagined I was in control of my world because of it, and the thought of ever losing it was incomprehensible.   I could and did attract whatever I wanted; handsome men, great jobs, success... the good life. 

 In my 30’s, and 40’s I was in heaven:  I had arrived and still had plenty of that ammo in my much bigger tool box, along with some smarts by now as well.  It was those things that I actually thought defined me back then.  My ability to attract and achieve.  But, it was exhausting to maintain.... investing all of that energy, constantly worrying about how you looked, how others looked at you;  striving to be better, do and have more because this was the benchmark for a successful life.  Virtually placing your destiny in the hands of the perceptions of other people, and so many elusive toys, is never a very good idea.  Time marches on and you best be moving forward, marching or dancing along with it.  The days of physical and mental “hot-mama-dom”  have evolved into a desire for something more noteworthy-- a legacy--- One which revolves around, unselfishness, kindness, honesty, authenticity and integrity. 

I have discovered there is a lot of freedom in pushing 60, leaving 50 behind.   First, I could be pushing up daisies. So many precious lives I’ve been touched by, are.  Second, my desire to be kinder to this vessel lined with wrinkles, and plumped up with belly fat, includes acceptance of what is, as it is. Yay!   Gone is the belief I have to loose 20 pounds, get botox, achieve notoriety,  or have lots of bucks in my  bank to be happy. I’ve quit saying things like, “I’m too old, not good enough, pretty enough, smart enough, because I just don’t buy into the advertising anymore!  I look at the decade of my 50’s as having been a time of earning an advanced degree in what’s important, what’s not, and why we are here, on this earth.   A note from my (younger) very accomplished brother, really put where I am at in perspective for me.  He said, “I especially liked this quote from your email:  If you can learn to be happy without all those things the ego defines us by… jobs, other people's opinions, a significant other,  accomplishments, you can probably live through anything, in acceptance and grace.  Wow. What wise person wrote that?  Why, it was me! He went on to say, I haven't had much time for introspection, especially lately, so I'm envious of the self-awareness you have, and the personal growth you've achieved.  In that respect, I learn vicariously through your reflections and discoveries. There are those who are lamps, and those who just reflect light.  It's never 100% one way or the other, of course, but I think you're more the former, and I'm more the latter.”  

(Thank you baby brother)... A tear trickled down my lined little face.   I am happy today, to be the lamp, rather than merely a reflection - because no matter how bright the light,  it's easily extinguishable in the world's ever-changing and fickle limelight.  There is an unselfishness, easy comfort, and continuity about the lamp. 

   

So, back to the party....What DO you buy a man who can afford to travel to six continents?  My gift to him.... a tiny kangaroo toting an even teenier Joey who held up a sign.  The sign read:   Australia or Bust!   I’m hoping he makes it 7 continents before he’s 70.  Something tells me he’s already booked the trip!    I think I’ve also learned, by his example, when you turn 60.... you just go dancing... you break out the food (or luggage), and have a ball! 

Am I too picky?

Can it be true that all of the men I am magnetically drawn to, are dead?

I am in love.  First it was a Saint and now a former priest!   I sure know how to  pick em!  I sigh over their words, prayers, and poems.  They awaken my sleeping butterflies- -  in recognition and resonance.   How can I ever find the right words to explain ethereal recall, and those serendipitous moments handed down from a beloved Creator who always knows exactly what I need, when I need it. 

 Meeting James, or as he was known earlier in life, Father Kavanaugh, it was like meeting my identical twin, for the first time. Imagine being separated at birth, years ago .... and discovering, right from the beginning, you need do nothing but sit in silence, heart to heart, and watch the sparks fly. Either that, or I spiritually reconnected with a past life soulmate, and just joyfully greeted him in the eternal part of my heart

Yesterday, I was introduced to James Kavanaugh and my spirit did a few somersaults.   We met at the unlikeliest place.  Online. No Match.com torture this time around.  Rather a fix-up,  on Facebook.  A dear friend introduced us with a simple quote on my Facebook timeline.  It read, "Some one's been writin' about you, girlfriend."  Then she directed me to the link, so I could meet him face to face.  My pulse quickened and a chill ran up my spine  at the first several lines of his intro.  Who could possibly know these things about ME?  It was like someone had been living in my heart and head, secretly gathering information to write my biography.  Only, it wasn't my profile, it was his.  Here is what I read:

Some people do not have to search-

they find their niche early in life and rest there, seemingly contented and resigned.

They do not ask much of life,

sometimes they do not seem to take it seriously.

At times, I envy them, 

but usually I do not understand them-

seldom do they understand me.

I am one of the searchers. 

There are, I believe, millions of us. 

We are not unhappy, but neither are we really content. We continue to explore life, hoping to uncover its ultimate secret. 

We continue to explore ourselves, hoping to understand. 

We like to walk along the beach, 

we are drawn by the ocean,

taken by its power, its unceasing motion, its mystery and unspeakable beauty. 

We like forests and mountains, deserts and hidden rivers, and the lonely cities as well. 

Our sadness is as much a part of our lives as is our laughter. 

To share our sadness with one we love is perhaps as great a joy as we can know - unless it be to share our laughter. 

We searchers are ambitious only for life itself, 

for everything beautiful it can provide. 

Most of all we love and want to be loved. 

We want to live in a relationship that will not impede 

our wandering, nor prevent our search, nor lock us in prison walls;

 that will take us for what little we have to give. 

We do not want to prove ourselves to another or compete for love.

For wanderers, dreamers, and lovers, 

for lonely men and women who dare to ask of life everything good and beautiful. 

It is for those who are too gentle to live among wolves.” 

~ James Kavanaugh  (click here to read about him here)

I  spent the remainder of the evening cruising websites about Mr. Kavanaugh, exploring every word detailing his life.  Through these words, I identified with  his incessant need for change and the pursuit of truth, knowledge, love and beauty.  I stared dreamily into the depth of his words, drinking it all in, parched for a connection with a like minded other.  I ran into the arms of his poetry and let the words envelope me in the knowledge;  I am not alone.  There are indeed other seekers out there.... like-minded others, just searching for like-minded me.  There are millions of us, and the Universe does bring us together, when it's time. 

In the meantime, I take my comfort in knowing, I am not flawed; no thwarted development, identity crisis, or malcontentment here!  Ambition for life is a Holy career.  There are others, like me, awakening to immeasurable beauty, excited to continue on this treasure hunt... seeking never-ending purpose, and meaning.  I am blessed with an earthly friend who not only knows me so well, she loves me for those qualities too!   I am doubly blessed to have been born with the soul of a seeker.

Hey, if it's true there are millions of us out there, I am bound to eventually meet a living, breathing,  seeker, eager to share in my laughter, sadness, the good, and beautiful.   And, worse case scenario,  if I am destined to simply fall in love with the deceased, then that's okay too.  They still have many things to show me and lessons to teach me. 

The K.I.S.S. Method....

Keep it simple, sassy. Some might argue the acronym stands for, Keep it Simple Stupid.    I don’t agree. I like sassy. Or.... student, as in student of life.  I’m growing weary of labels these days. Especially those derogatory ones, attaching them onto others, but also the ones I've pinned on myself.  Charity starts at home.  I’ve personally stationed some fences and guards around my life to protect my spirit from the infiltration.   Even said in jest, they can be sneaky, and damaging.    

K.I.S.S.  That’s been my mantra for these past months, drilling it down to the basics. Baby steps.   That long list of to-do’s atrophying in my planner, is no longer used to bonk myself on the head in punishment at my inadequacies, degree of motivation.  Check marks are not the measure of my worth.  I should have trashed it a long time ago.  Maybe a little dose of depression and inactivity is what it has taken to recognize, I am still incredibly beloved and worthy, even without the ridiculously high self-imposed standards.  There are no lists.... For now.  A calendar with the most important events, and mandatory attendance of the day, penciled in, is quite enough.    The newest discovery here has been dumbing it all down.  The paradox.... keeping it simple  has been conducive to getting more things accomplished. Mindful.... and more focused on the one task (or pleasure) in front of me.   Especially when I arise and let the day itself prioritize the goals.... Just one single sentence, echoing in my soul, to remind me how my day is supposed to be.  I hear this............

Be still and know I am God.  I do this first. 

K.I.S.S.

First thing, I get still now.  That’s the first baby step of the day. So simple.  I already know God, much better than I knew God, even yesterday.   What I’m learning to do is listen to God.  When I listen to God, seems I am guided to the things I need to do in that single day, rather than what I think I need to accomplish in a lifetime.  Holy prioritization. Sometimes His idea of accomplishment and mine aren’t in alignment. I’ve discovered when that happens, that’s when the depression monsters come calling.    If I believe His master plan for my life is PERFECT for me and what I have come to this earth to learn, then I must clear out a space to visit with Him.  The only way I can hear Him, over the din of my ego, is to be still.   The ego.  The cruelest of task masters; assigning me to things I wasn’t created to do to feed it’s ravenous, empty void; acquiring traits that don’t necessarily bring out the best me. The ego... the false prophet.    

According to Dr. Wayne Dyer, the ego defines us by these things: I am what I have.  I am what I do. I am what other people think of me. I am separate from everybody else and I am separate from what’s missing in my life.   What an OCD and crazy making way to live!   I know.  I’ve lived like that for far too long. If I wasn’t in constant motion making every attempt to be somebody, get approval, grabbing as many brass rings as I could, trying to be what someone elses idea of success looked like;  striving, and constantly seeking for what I thought was missing,  I feared my epitaph might read “loser”.  

  

Be still and know I am God.  This creates the life of a “winner”..... But I’m done with labels.  

Doors seem to open up, peace has settled into my soul, and a unique new river of energy surprises me with an enthusiasm I couldn’t seem to muster on my own, with all the plotting, planning, and goal setting in the world.  My day is gently being conducted by the Master who directs me to the next task at hand.  No more cacophony of nonsense and noise.  It all began by using the most basic of K.I.S.S. methods....

Be still and know I am God. 

That is the biggest K.I.S.S. I will receive all day long.  

Keep it simple, student.

With Hugs, and K.I.S.S.ES, K.I.S.S.ES, K.I.S.S.ES 

I used to think Life was a beach, but now I think it's more like a mango....

Quotes and Mantras

I love quotes.  I doubt there has been a quote written that is completely original. Life philosophies have been trumpeted throughout the centuries in some form or other, reworked and  translated into modern day lingo and the current slang of the day.  The underlying messages remain constant.  Quotes are bite sized morsels that I seem to be able to easily call upon when I need a reminder.  Or, to be used as a wordle mandala to focus on;   a mini-mantra of sorts, silently recycled in meditation time.   Recently, I started creating my own... little lesson plans and refresher courses, cathartic and informative, designed to remind me that I am a work in progress, and some days I have to revisit past grades to relearn. Sometimes..... in a new way.  Somethings.... I  egotistically believed I'd already conquered.  Here are a few that have shown up in my course curriculum. I am recognizing, as Rosanna Rosanna Danna (the comic genuis, Gilda Radner, of Saturday Night Live fame) said, "It's always something."   I AM sure of one thing...... it's a journey, and NO ONE,  escapes the learning curve as long as we are hanging out in human form. NO ONE.  Nope, not even you Eckart Tolle!   C'mon Eckart.... even Jesus didn't.  He cried in the garden and was afraid too.  We are spiritual beings, having a human experience.

Everyone we encounter is playing a part 

Love yourself and you will be able to serve and truly love others

Be authentic 

My favorite morning gratitude statement

Maybe, if I continue to write it, the wisdom will come................   

Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm is taking a sabbatical.....

It crept up on me. I did not see this coming.  Outwardly, I seemed to be Cheery-O, but when I came home, the stage make-up came off and my world was becoming about as wide as the living room couch.  It revolved around watching episode after episode of Oprah Super Soul Sunday, cruising the internet for every and any New Age guru, Christian millionaire preacher, and just some tid-bit of new information, instruction, or hope to cling to.   Before I knew it, all the psycho-babble, spiritual woo-woo’s, and stream of advice was all beginning to look like cheap, plastic, fixes to a problem that ran much deeper than my spirit seemed to be able to figure out.  Everything from positive mental attitude, to law of attraction, gratitude journals, and I AM statements, and guilt based religious warnings,  bombarded my inbox and life. I am suffering greatly from a severe overdose of spirituality overload. It too has become an addiction.  When the first blush of the honeymoon wore off, they all came tumbling off their pedestal and I banished many of them to the land of Oz along with that other great and powerful charlatan. I became convinced their tricks really were designed to line already deep pockets; while out of the other side of their mouths, they professed a desire to share their knowledge, serve, and improve the lives of others.... For a mere $199.00, for starters that is; for the online course, or the latest download, or book.  You too could find your value and self-worth, pursue your passion, experience bliss and become peace.   Hmmm... I thought, maybe that age old adage, you have to have money, to make money, applies to the propagation of the gifts of the spirit too. Only the wealthy could immerse themselves in a cruise along with Dr. Wayne Dyer, or a week at Omega Institute with the finest in the self-help, personal growth and improvement industry. The less financially abundant among us had to sort of scramble for the crumbs at the feet of the rich enlightened; scotch-taping our own programs together. And the fear based warnings abounded.... Your thoughts create your reality, believe as I or burn in hell, forgive now or suffer. When you're in the midst of hopelessness, these are not helpful.  I've crashed and burned on the altar of the spiritual movement. I know I will experience a rebirth, but for now, I am not interested in anymore techniques for inviting the happiness fairy into my life. It just is not that simple.  At least for the average Joe (me).    

This recent malaise was especially disturbing to me, knowing I have spent the greater part of the last several years accomplishing some long overdue healing, forgiving, and growing into my own skin and authenticity. It was euphoric!  Frankly, I thought, it was about time to reap the rewards of my concentration and inner work. For a long while there,  I really thought I arrived, discovering a new serenity I had never really known.   Was it all for naught now?  Why is my only motivation to leave the couch now revolving around what is for dinner, prepared and eaten (where else) on the couch.  Why has my daily plans for great accomplishments wound up to be the pipe dream of the day? 

I am depressed, and I didn’t even realize it. There I’ve said it.  That’s the important part.  No hiding out behind a facade of I’ve got it all togetherness.   Some unfinished business to address, hanging out since November of last year I think, and all the law of attraction and visualization, and prayers aren’t what’s called for now.  A little honesty perhaps, and sharing my secret. Here is the secret...I am overwhelmed and lost and don't know what Plan B is.    

I suppose, all that spiritual work in the last four years, did help in that I had an out of body kind of experience last week, (don't get all freaky on me here - it's just a bit of a metaphor), peering at myself from across the room, an impartial observer. This spirit me, silently checking out the human me, being slowly spoon fed all kinds of nonsense, and chastised by my ego for all the things I haven't accomplished yet and have worked so hard at, yet, simply can't seem to manage to kick-start. The ego sneers, "See, I tried to tell you weren't worthy, and you certainly aren't any good. If you were, you wouldn't be in this position."    How did this happen?  Why didn’t I see the signs? What were the clues I was spiraling down? 

I don’t drink anymore. I gave up that coping mechanism about 25 years ago.  I don’t use drugs.  They scare me too much.  I even quit taking my cholesterol medication.   But, mindlessly shoveling food and snacks into my mouth was comforting, until the next day and my pants wouldn’t zip.  Cruising the dating sites and superficially connecting with men whose little online green light was lit up 24-7, engaging in thought provoking chat that went something like this.  HIM:  Hey.  ME:  Hey. HIM: You're hot.  ME:  Ummm...Thanks?  HIM:  Here's my phone number, call me.  ME: WTF???   That felt good for about a minute.  Numbing out to old episodes of Scandal and Downton Abbey (and Super Soul Sunday) was great;  but I never really saw them, as I would find myself dozing off in the midst.  Tired.  Just tired.   Eventually, I discovered it was becoming increasingly difficult to even begin to think about checking off the growing list of tasks, even the imminent ones, like diligently making an effort to find the means to take care of my most basic human needs; like heat and shelter. I was okay on the food front.  That seemed to be in abundance. My pants told the story.

I’m not good at telling people when I’m drowning. I have an image to protect; the Goddess of Zendom (a legend in my own mind). Besides, everyone has their share of life smacking them upside the head too, and no one seems much interested in a “Negative Nelly” even if the feelings are authentic.  No one seems to care much about authentic these days either.  It’s all about appearances.  We put our fingers inside our ears and sing-song, “I can’t really hear you.....” mumbling something about including people in prayers and scurrying off to avoid actually feeling some authentic empathy or lending a  helping hand or ear.  This seems to be how we deal with others pain or suffering. Send 'em a text, or Facebook sentiment.  People, c'mon we all just want to be SEEN and HEARD and accepted, as we are... in that moment, not dismissed with trivia.   Worse yet, comparative suffering is used as a method to put you in your place about how much better off you are than the guy that has cancer, or whose child was killed by a gunman in a classroom. If we have even a modicum of empathy, we feel this too, so, our little sufferings, we hold inside.  I love that term “comparative suffering”, a phrase Dr. Brene’ Brown used on a recent Super Soul Sunday.  I apparently was awake long enough to hear

those words.  Those little sufferings add up.  A young teen from my small community killed himself two weeks ago. It was heartbreaking.  I am sure he didn’t share his pain, whether it was a girlfriend who dumped him, or grade issues, or he didn’t make the football team.  Tragically, whatever he felt, that pain was enough to drive him to take his own life.   It doesn’t seem to be acceptable to open up and share with others how you REALLY feel; overwhelmed, hurt, angry, scared, less-than, and it appears that’s the message we are even sending to our children.  

I’m here to break that pattern. Being vulnerable. Silence is not always golden and secrets make us sicker and sicker.  We aren’t always going to be filled with joy and gratitude, even when we try our best. Our current reality cannot always be whisked away by positive affirmations, happy faces, and leprechauns jumping over rainbows.  The odds are much better of returning to a place of peace, especially if we give ourselves permission to feel crummy when bad things happen, even little bad things.   The best technique for beginning to break out of depression is to open up about it. Share with another. We were created to help one another. Odds are we aren't going to receive a real connection, if we aren't honest about how we are feeling.  If we share with someone who is indifferent, we must  try again until we land on another genuine human being striving for authenticity too. Authentic people attract authentic people. My imaginary (or was it) out of body experience showed me this all began to snowball last November when a series of events really crushed me: made me question the integrity of some, the cruelty of others, the outright criminal mentality that decimated the lives of my loved ones for a time, and the indifference of still others.  The world is unfair and a cruel place sometimes, and no addiction, or other numbing technique will ever take it away.  It just lies there, in wait, knowing it will eventually hog tie you if it goes on long enough.  Trying to fake it and keep smiling didn't really work well either.  But, being authentic, and honest, and sharing does. So, I did, finally.  And, I  continue to do so.  I may not be alright right now.  But, I will be. All my, numbing, escapism, and plastic fixes are beginning to fall away.  

  

Beep..........I’m sorry, Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm is temporarily out of the office.  She is taking a sabbatical from food, wizard of oz men, hours of television, surfing the internet, blatant inauthenticity, and the vast majority of self-help/religiousity/ spirituality practices, for now. It's time to go a little dark for awhile.  I'm holding on to a few things I know work best for me.  I'm keeping it simple; exercise, prayer, meditation and even honest, authentic connection with my Creator.  Rebecca is not going to smile when she doesn’t feel like it.  No more pretending her way out of suffering. She will cry, share, beat a pillow with her fists, and show you who she is instead of playing make believe.   She will be spending her time connecting with other real people and nature, fervently pursuing earning an honest days living, telling the truth about how she is feeling, even if SHE feels she shouldn’t be feeling that way.... whew. She will be taking incremental BABY STEPS towards the change her heart yearns for.  Some days the only thing on that to do list, for now, just might be starting out the day with the simple prayer - I turn my will and life over to the care of God as I understand him and then... JUST DO THAT.   

Authenticity DOES NOT always = joy. It can be scary.  But, it sure builds our courage muscles, makes for a more meaningful, honest life, as well as better relationships with others and the world, and eventually (hopefully) leads to true inner peace. 

St. Francis of Assisi and I go soul to soul.........

 

St. Francis - my guy

I've had this secret crush. I met him a few years ago.   The introduction was so mystical and unforgettable, in all honesty, it didn’t occur to me until later that our connection was one of those rare, ethereal soulmate hook-ups.  Call it a past life, or alternate universe experience, I can honestly say I have never fallen so madly in love with someone I never met. Our introduction touched parts of my soul with an unspoken magic that moved me to tears.  Maybe that’s what true love is all about.  Something far beyond physical chemistry; a deeper, inner knowing that this experience/individual  is happening for you, and to you....  breaking down the barriers and defects of the ego and teaching you things you’ve waited your whole life to learn.  They say God shows up in ways in which we will recognize Him.  I needed this mystery man to arrive, leading me to a greater understanding of the bottomless well of spirituality I was so frantically seeking then.  Ready to throw off the limitations of fear based doctrine, and the five senses, believing in my heart of hearts, there is so much more to this boundless Universe; both playground and school to all of creation. I was also slow-cooking, in a thick, tasteless, stew of regret and self-flagellation; needing to forgive (myself first and then a laundry list of others)  so I could dance in the playground again.   God knew I was ready and He sent me to Italy.   

The Pieta

A two month trip through Italy and southern France took me to some of the most noted religious spots in Europe as well as the privilege of feasting my eyes on Art created for God’s pleasure... or the current ruler of the day.  By the end of our Italian sojourn, we joked that we were ready to venture away from some of the religious Art and the myriad of “ugly baby Jesus” pictures.  Some artists must have been trying to score brownie points as they painted a grown man’s face; a dictator, Pope, or even their own, on a soft, pink, dimpled baby body. Frightening.  The churches in Rome, the Vatican Museum and the Sistine Chapel were greeted with wide-eyed wonder as visions swirled of ancient times.  I have a relatively active imagination, and was capable of re-creating  the history in my head, as I stood before many of the saints, great thinkers, and artists tombs;  St. Peter, Michelangelo, Dante, Galileo, Raphael and so many more.   St. Peter’s Basilica alone is a hot bed of spiritual energy, a papal resting place, and vibrant history dances through all its sculpture and artwork.  The Pieta could bring even an atheist to tears, in its depiction of the unimaginable sorrow of a mother, cradling and grieving the lifeless body of her Son.

All of it, relayed a story to my curious mind, engaged and awed me.    Yet, when I returned home and was asked what my favorite place was during this once in a lifetime trip, I had to respond, visiting the crypt of St. Francis of Assisi.  My experience there was so much more than imagination and personal storytelling originating in my head. It was visceral, perceived in my heart and every fiber of my being. It was here, I now know, everything for me, began to change.  Spiritually, nothing would ever be the same again.  It was here, I began to learn to stop minimizing my intuition.  I discovered it was as important as the other five senses. 

Visiting Assisi, I had no expectations, and don’t even know if I was consciously aware St. Francis’ remains were cloistered away beneath the massive Basilica of San Francesco.  I wasn’t particularly intrigued by St. Francis, or even necessarily a devotee of any of the saints.  I knew next to nothing about his life. I knew he graced many gardens, his concrete form enticing the birds to land on this lover of animals and the poor.   I had no idea he came from a wealthy family and had a colorful past as a self-indulgent womanizer, drinker, and party dude. A sinner for sure, apparently redeemed in several conversion experiences.  Nonetheless, I was excited to visit this massive church.  

St. Francis crypt

The cathedral was beautiful and reverently still, even though it was teaming with tourists.  Nestled deep in the bowels of the church lies his crypt.  As I walked down into the cavernous hallways of the church, I began to feel enveloped in peace.  With every step I took it deepened, like a fog thickening around me, seeping into every pore in my body. The sensation, I can now relate, felt very similar to a meditation session, consciously breathing relaxation into each part of the body.  Only this shroud of peace wasn’t a conscious act, nor did I have to work at it.   Rounding the corner into a small chapel, I stopped, awestruck by the earthiness of the surroundings.  What was it about this simple sanctuary, housing the remains of St. Francis, that drew me magnetically inside to a seat on the humble, carved, wooden pews.  The room was cool and the lighting was dim. My eyes were riveted to the circular, stone altar straight ahead, candles burning brightly, inviting my heart to open up and let the light enter.  Five minutes seated in the pew, silently praying a prayer I had never prayed before, I asked for St. Francis kindness and understanding to envelope me.  I asked for my heart to open to the possibility of forgiveness and putting it to rest. I asked him to be an emissary to God and requested unconditional love. I asked for direction for my life.  A warmth radiated from the center of my chest and my body couldn’t sit any longer. I moved towards the circular altar, feeling a pulse of energy emanating from the stone and put my hand out, open palm, ready to receive.  As I slowly moved around the structure, my body bathed in energy, I could see St. Francis, his uncannily familiar face, eyes gentle, but a mischievous grin dancing on his lips.  He raised his hands to bless me and then reached out with one, and touched the open palm of mine reaching towards the burial shrine, as if the contact would feel familiar, and I would then remember.  Droplets of tears slid down my cheeks in recollection and gratitude.   I was forgiven.  I am not perfect.  I made a mistake.  I’d made many of mistakes.  But, I am not a mistake.  My soul not only heard this, but gratefully received that grace.  I heard that I need to listen with that same soul and my heart from now on. I heard that redemption is always possible... Witness St. Francis' life. 

The connection to him and this experience has remained with me. Did St. Francis and I party together in a past life when he was just Francesco? He was a bad boy in his younger days.  I was a wild child. We had a lot in common, something I wasn’t aware of until I returned home and read his biography.  Or, is it just we are all eternally connected, and sometimes, we don’t even need to ask for a miracle.  Maybe it’s as simple and easy as  being in the right place, at the right time. I know if I want to fully experience the majesty and limitless power of God, I have to at least be open, get rid of the closed mind, and clear a pathway to my heart.  This time I unconsciously chose to observe through the eyes of intuition and was blessed to receive a mystical moment that has changed my idea of spirituality forever. 

God does answer our prayers... sometimes through a centuries old sinner, turned Saint.  

Afterthoughts:  Five years later, I still dream of my affair to remember with St. Francis. I'm convinced we've been soulmates lifetimes ago.   I have to confess... He now does have competition. I find I am strangely drawn to the new Pope Francis.  When I see him in the media, I feel the same connection and familiarity I felt on that summer day in Assisi.  What is it about my attraction to these Francis’?  Who wouldn't be attracted to all of that genuine humility and  palpable empathy?  There are worse things than to be in love with a Saint and a Pope. 

Introducing Me... Confessions

• I have a very busy head that rarely takes a vacation.
• I’ve been hurt and I often trust people I shouldn’t.
• I’ve experienced many tragedies but had an equal measure of joys.
• I frequently believe too much. In hope, in healing, in second chances. 
• I’m self-reliant with a little bit of a secret desire for someone to take care of me. 
• I’ve learned to love bigger than I think I’m capable.
• I have a forgiving heart, but it can take me a while to get there.  
• I’m a singer. The kind that would make your dog howl. I hold most of my concerts in the car, with the windows rolled up.
• I’m also a dancer with the limited poise of the tiny ballerina locked up in your jewelry box. I don’t care.  I do it anyway. I was made to move. 
• I’ve been known to be wrong, but sometimes, I'll have a hard time telling you that.
• I am a recovering perfectionist, far from perfect.
• I laugh a lot and smile even more.
• I am truly oblivious to compliments believing they must be directed at whoever is standing behind me. 
• I cry.... a lot. For you and with you.  I cry when I’m sad and happy; when I’m moved or inspired;  and when I’m incapable of words because my spirit is crushed beyond recognition.  
• I’m a giver who is learning to receive.
• I’m also a people pleaser learning to please me first, so what I have to give you, is for the right reasons.
• I often care more about others than I do about myself, but I am learning to give both of us equal love fest time. 
• I hate to be called honey, hon, baby, dear, sweetheart.. unless it comes from the select few who are MY honeys, babies, dears, or sweethearts. 
• I have a sarcastic, snarky, sense of humor sometimes, but make real efforts to not direct it in a hurtful, or shameful way. 
• I’m a diva, a shoe whore, and frustrated fashionista.  I love baubles, make-up, perfume, and the blonde hair God forgot to give me. 
• I'm a lover of beautiful things; art, words, nature, babies, old people.
• I’m fearless with my fun. 
• Most of the time I am an extroverted, social butterfly, but I enjoy an occasional solitary respite, hiding out in my own cocoon.
• Some days I don’t like my body, but I always appreciate what it's doing for me.
• I am a nurturing caretaker when others are ill, but often can’t seem to drag myself to see a medical doctor or dentist.  
• Yet, I'm the Queen of self-help; therapy, meditation, drumming, tapping, the latest crazes and other healthy methods for ending suffering. I'm vehemently opposed to silent suffering and believe martyrdom is for the great Biblical heros and historical gurus, who are much stronger than me. 
• I’m motivated by challenge, but will probably whine about it to you. 
• I often say I want security, safety, and just to settle in comfortably, but, I get bored easily and yearn for adventure.
• When I love you, I love you forever.  I will protect you, defend you, be loyal to you, and do my best to love you unconditionally, sometimes when you don’t deserve it. 
• I tend to be brutally honest with myself while sugarcoating the truth to others.
• I’ve been a sinner and a saint, but I sleep better when I am a saint. 
• If you could peek inside my heart, you would see it's made of gold; blackened with tarnish at times,  but still precious.
• Sometimes I get so scared I think my heart will stop beating. That usually happens when I forget where I came from, my lineage, and who my Father is.

Yes, I am authentic, Fearfully, and Wonderfully made...

I think I am still gonna just continue to be ME and see where Life takes me......

Meditation, Prayer, Intuition and flying by the seat of my pants.....

Today, I was perched on top of a pair of big, flowered bed pillows, legs crossed Indian style, hands resting on my knees.  My palms were facing upward, ready to receive and I giggled out loud. I just couldn’t take it anymore.  Here I was, not a total newbie to this meditation practice, and it was still happening.  My nose itched and I felt like I had to sneeze.  The sound of my phone dinging from the other room, pierced my brain, and the battle began.  Like a two year old with the attention span of a rabid squirrel, the left brain began to duke it out with the right brain.  Right brain wandered off into creative ideas for the perfect Sunday Brunch for Easter, table decorations, and cute little treasures for the kids’ Easter baskets. Colorful, Creative, and Fun!  Left  brain smacked me into order like an old Nun schoolteacher.  “Knock it off.  SatChitAnanda... SatChitAnanda.  Breathe, Breathe, Breathe.... In, out, in out.”  My right brain sing-songed, “Lalalala....I can’t hear you...... There it went.... skipping on down the path with the Easter Bunny.  Ghandi once said, “To train your mind to eliminate the chatter is like trying to empty the sea with a teacup.” I feel better hearing those profound words from a  master teacher.  Today, I not only accepted this chatter as “normal” I surrendered to it.  That’s progress.  

A friend asked me the other day why I seemed so calm and centered with so much uncertainty in my life right now.  I must admit, his question took me back some.  Was I calm?  I haven’t felt like I had any right to claim any Zen qualities, especially in the last decade!  Like a roller coaster, the range of my emotional well-being, was as unpredictable as pinpointing when a tsunami would strike.  In the last few years, I have tried to keep the intensity of the times I became distressed, closeted away, sharing only with a select few closest to me. God bless them for their unconditional love, no matter what.  Yet again, that same sentiment about my noticeable serenity was echoed last night at a women’s gathering.  Am I? Good grief,  I had a meltdown,  post meditation, just in this past week!    My mind obsessing with future doom and gloom as the furnace rattled again in the middle of the night, I was rejected for two jobs that secretly didn’t really want or that suited me anyway, and my checking account reflected an overdraft.  That old practical left brain started telling tales about how my future looked rather dreary, and after all, I was so unworthy, anyway, and I hated my town, my house, my current situation...poor, poor, me.   

I’ve been actively practicing meditation for about three years now. I even downloaded a little Phone App with the option of dipping my toe into mindfulness meditation for as little as five minutes a day, or making the bigger commitment to dive in for a full twenty minutes. I am the proud owner of several lengthier guided meditation CD’s as well, because, believe it or not, I’ve had days where an hour long meditation was where my heart wanted to spend its time. In the beginning, five

minutes a day, the first year, was about all I could tolerate.  Everything started to itch, and I squirmed in my seat, consciously fighting off thoughts that crowded into that quiet space I was trying to reach.  I kept it up, no matter what; even those days when my brain was off and running and the effects weren’t what I anticipated and wanted.... calmness, insight, and peaceful acceptance of what is.  Every day, day after day...it became a habit, like brushing my teeth or taking a daily shower to clean my body. I started to think of it as the routine I used to clean my mind of the clutter so there would be room for some silence.  I hoped that when my brain grew still, and I felt a faint quickening in my heart, I would find some true peace and my answers. 

This week, the Holiest of weeks for Christians, has been a reflective week for me.  What, I wondered, has meditation really done for me?  After all, I do still have days when the world weighs heavier than the heaven I’m trying so hard to touch within.  And, then, voila,  the answer in the form of an International 21 day Meditation practice sponsored by Oprah and Deepak Chopra I'd been participating in.  The words jumped out at me as I began to prepare myself for the meditation, reading the text and the centering thought of the day: 

"My little changes amount to big benefits." 

 Today, I think meditation is like adding to a retirement account. You start out doing what you can, and your deposit may only be a little at first.  Sometimes, the money seems to just sit there, not really growing much, but you keep on investing, and your cents, turn to dollars and you want to throw more in. And one day you notice, you've built up a little nest egg there. Readily available if you should need it. Consistent meditation practice works the same way.  The security of knowing you have that resource to turn to, helps you to know that you can cash in on some of that reserve, through prayer and then pay attention to the answers through intuition.  Meditation IS a practice and just like anything else we want to be better at, we have make time to hone the skill.  The rewards have been sweet. I pay attention to what my intuition is saying to me, and view synchronicity as a precious and anonymous gift from God, rather than a fluke.  I go on about the business of doing what I need, and want to do, and let go of my attachment to the outcome.  So freeing.  I am able to much better look beyond the costumes others are wearing (skinny, fat, rich, poor, ugly, beautiful) all just temporary garb in this earthly life and see the essence - the soul of others. This makes my connections so much more authentic.  People know I see them, hear them, and value them, non-judgementally.  I am clearly beginning to recognize that everything I desire is within me (Ram, Ram, Ram).   Everything. I am perfectly created. 

The greatest gift of all, is the recognition that while my essence is an eternal soul, I am still hanging out in an earthly body, and I can only do my best - five minutes, or an hour at a time.  Perhaps the real joy in prayer and meditation is the gradual unveiling and deepening of my relationship between myself and my Creator.  

Egotistically--- people are noticing a calmer, more balanced me!  I let that right brain frolic and play and the left brain rationalize and try to control and make practical sense of it all; knowing they'll both get tired and succumb to spending some quality time, in stillness, just listening, to the reassuring beating of my heart.  

Happy Easter.  May the message of this Holy time bring hope, renewal, enlightenment and love to your heart! 

“The seeker embarks on a journey to find what he wants and discovers, along the way, what he needs.” ― Wally Lamb, The Hour I First Believed

I was trying to remember when my unquenchable thirst for the meaning of life began.  I don’t think I much cared about why I was here, or what I was to be doing here as a very young child.  Life was lived moment by moment;  the way all small children approach the world,  with wonder, and entitlement.  Little ones are intuitive about their purpose here.  They know it’s their birthright to simply live in joy, because they are still connected to that place of unconditional love, from where they came.  They don’t need much to live in a state of wonder either; they seem to find it right where they are- with everything or nothing.  Their only purpose is pleasure and amazement at the gift of life and all its magic.    That is until society and religious doctrine infiltrate their heads and manipulate their thinking to fit whatever tribe they’ve been born into - - -   Protestant, Catholic, Jewish, Hindu, Muslim, Atheist.  The list goes on.  Then you add race, traditions, social status, family history, demographics, and economics into the mix.  

I truly don’t remember much about my earliest years. I was born to a teenage mom, virtually fatherless until the age of four. One would think this would color a child’s relationship with the world.  I don’t think it did, back then, until the chatter of the world got ahold of me.   I recall writing an older cousin, an assignment I had been given when I was doing some childhood healing work many years ago, and asking her “What was I like as a child?”  Her response sparked some memories of this joyful little girl;  "Happy and sweet, a tiny lover of life, she said......  most of all, curious, very curious".   I had to write my own obituary one time too as another healing assignment.  Another perfect example of my incessant thirst to know more about who I was and what I was born to be.  A  dedicated emotional intelligence scholar and self-proclaimed self-help Queen, this assignment was designed to help me envision what goodness and gifts I wanted to leave behind to the world.   It wound up being a lengthy, free flowing commentary; part fact laced with humor, and part fantasy laying out an intention.   One of the early sentences in my highly dramatized, creative prose said,  Rebecca entered this world, an old soul, both eyes wide open, inquisitively searching for the meaning of life from her first breath.  I’ve come to realize, that statement is not an embellishment; it’s a fact. A lovely way to enter the world for sure. But, there are some that view curiosity with a sort of disdain believing those of us with a thirst for more to be  malcontents.   They don't understand that sometimes it's in the wandering we find the most beauty and joy in life. 

  

Honestly, from the age of about 10, up until a few years ago, I did feel a little guilty about it.  This incessant need to know more, and more, and more about our Creator, The Source, The Universe, and things beyond my human body and five senses, overrode my blind acceptance of how I had been coached.  I felt disloyal to my “tribe” and its teachings.  My parents so carefully cultivated this framework of organized religion with the best of intentions.  They wanted me to have a path to learn right from wrong,  apply order and discipline, and expose me to the spiritual gifts exemplified by Jesus,  so I would learn the importance of infusing them into  my own  human life.  Examples of kindness, service and community were reflected in the religious circle I grew up in.    It was also important to them I have something solid to turn to when life got out of control.  I am thankful for that.  

Yet, it has been the times when life was the most out of control that the organized doctrine of my tribe failed me. With messages of the Old Testament variety of guilt, shame, and punishment, it was often hard to find any comfort there.  Judgement was the thing I feared the most, and I simply couldn’t reconcile to a God who had the same human, mean-spirited traits as me.   Those beliefs didn’t make sense at times, not only on an intellectual level, but in my heart.  Other times, I WAS able to focus in on a Jesus of compassion, and healing, and hope. When I couldn't.... I wandered.  I’ve discovered some of my most spiritual ah-ha moments behind the doors of a twelve step program, and I  began to discover a beauty in the meditation practice and seeking the silence exemplified in Buddha, the belief in miracles in Kabbalah, the power of transformation in the life of St. Francis of Assisi, and modern day miracles in the wise teachers of today.  All of it woven with the love of the God  I have, unshakably  come to understand.  

The times I have felt the most nurtured are when I have listened to the voice within and wandered  down a path,  into the dense forest deeper into the unknown, leaving the religious guilt and shame behind.  There is where I find I can get still enough and quiet the noise of old tapes:  giving myself permission to let my soul connect with an unlimited  source of different doctrine and practices. My God is bigger than a one dimensional force spelled out, instruction manual format.  My God is bigger than a three, four, or five dimensional force.  I have to be willing to be flexible and teachable in order to be a companion to Life.  The Chinese Philosopher, Lao Tzu says it so well, “A man is born gentle and weak; at his death he is hard and stiff.  All things, including the grass and trees, are soft and pliable in life; dry and brittle in death. Stiffness is thus a companion of death; flexibility a companion of life. An army that cannot yield will be defeated. A tree that cannot bend will crack in the wind. The hard and stiff will be broken; the soft and supple will prevail.”

Certainly a Christian by birth, but when I wander into the realms of Spirit, however they are named, I know I am not lost.  I am living the way my God wants me to; learning, growing, teaching.   The path is clearly marked.  If it is about Love, then I am traveling down the right road.  

.... their ain’t no journey what don’t change you some - David Mitchell, Cloud Atlas