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

Soulmates Revisited

i carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it (anywhere
i go, you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart) 

Edward Estlin Cummings

This is the kind of love everyone seems to be seeking.  And, who wouldn’t feel adored compared to the eternal moon, sun, and stars? Wow.  Can anyone ever love us like this?  I think so, but it’s taken me decades and a few additional years to discover a Love like that.  

 A recent view of the google analytics on my blog reflects more than half the random hits were because people typed the word “soulmates” into a search engine.  If nothing else, it’s a great internet marketing lesson learned;  why optimizing key words are such a powerful tool for promotion on the internet!  My reasons for writing about it back then were much more self-serving than wanting exposure or helping the heartbroken desperately wading through the opinions of random billions of internet feedback and advice. 

I wrote it initially because a relationship, one I was convinced was an ethereal soulmate connection, had ended disastrously.  Writing has always been one method I use to figure things out; using my creative right brain to journey inward where the Wise One resides and guides me to some understanding.  I wanted answers, why this rare occurrence of an  intuitive attraction, almost spiritual, wound up being a complete failure, leaving me with some permanent scars and questioning everything.  For a time, I found myself trusting nothing, a very lonely place to be.  I couldn’t rely on my instincts, heavenly guidance, friends, or loved ones.    Taking that time to write and resurrect the dynamics of some of the relationships from my past, as well as some serious prayer and meditation, unveiled a new belief that resonated so purely to me. Here is what I discovered, and my post from back then: http://examiningmyunexaminedlife.blogspot.com/2010/06/true-soul-mate-is-probably-most.html.  

My realization that every significant relationship, both positive and negative are soulmate connections was a "slain in the spirit" Ahha moment for me!   A soulmate connection is one that helps nudge (or in some of my cases- drop-kick) us down the path of knowing who we really are, helping us to grow into our authenticity.  We learn about ourselves through these important human beings, importing bits of the teachings from our numerous soulmates as we move through the course of our lives. Our soulmates reveal the good, the bad, the ugly, the joy and the holy in us.   They come to love us, upset us, teach us, push our buttons, pleasure us, challenge us, adore us, and mentor us.  No one soulmate is any more important in our soul’s growth, than another.  Some just feel better than others, more fun,  awe inspiring, joyful, gentler, more sensuous, loving, or enlightening.   The ones who shake our world to its core, are likely the ones we need the most, at that particular time in our evolution.  There is no one human soulmate. We have more soulmates in our lifetime than we ever imagined.  

In the last year or so, I’ve come to believe having the grand lover, that one special person we are counting on to complete us and fill our lives,  is not really what drives our search for the ONE.   We are much more complicated (although we should learn to be simpler) than that. If we thought more simply, we wouldn't be continuously looking, thinking, another human being can ever give us all that we are seeking.   People change, move away, and  die.  They can help us along our path, but they cannot give us the permanent kind of connection and pure love we so desperately want.    

I think our restlessness is actually the vague remembrance of all the love of the spiritual home, from which we came. This motive of our desperate quest for a soulmate is the desire to clear the amnesia from our birth.  Remembering.  Our True love.  Our Heartmate.  Our Creator.  All of these encounters with others, throughout the course of our lifetime, are by design, and drive us to the doorway of our own Heart, where if we are silent, we begin to recognize, we already have everything we have searched for and wanted all along.  In that quiet space we do begin to  hear all which our spirit cries out for.   My beloved.  You are perfect. I love you exactly as you are.  I will never leave you. “My love for you is whatever a moon has always meant, and whatever a sun will always sing, is you.  I love you higher than the soul can hope and mind can hide.”   

I 've found it.  My Heartmate. It was here all along.  Nurtured by an all powerful, unconditional love, I am secure.  Tucked safely in my Beloved's arms, I need look no more.  The discovery..... the greatest love of all.  Soulmates will continue to arrive and depart in my life, teaching me how to surrender, give, and love, as my Heartmate loves me. My search is done.

"I carry your heart with me.  I carry it in my heart."

And I realized just yesterday how people can break your heart just by staying who they are.- Hannah Brencher

“I think you need to examine if you are in love with him, or the with the idea of him.”  A quote from my therapist, and I honestly admit, it was a head scratcher for me.  What in the world was he talking about? Of course I was in love with HIM!   How could you be in love with an idea?  Knowing me and my propensity for taking the simplest thoughts, and turning them into complex mental gyrations, he added, “If you don’t understand what I mean, call me later.”  Need I tell you, I had to call him?  He said, “What do you love about him?”  As I began to recite these things that he had shared, our conversations about what made him tick, things he liked to do, things he claimed to love and believe in, the good doctor posed this question,  “How long are you going to wait to  witness these things firsthand?  Have you seen him with his family to know he loves them dearly?”  Has he taken you on a trip, and have you experienced his love of exploration?”  “Have you socialized with others and does he interact with them like you’ve heard him say?  Does he do those fun things with you he talks so much about?”   A light went on.  It was a 9 volt night light bulb, but it was a start.   Years later, looking back over the relationship (and so many others), the common interests, beliefs, and values I thought were mutual, I really had no idea if it was a fact, because I kept hanging on, waiting for them to live up to my idea of who I thought they MIGHT/COULD be.  Always waiting.... for the right moments, when the Moon was full, and Jupiter would align itself with Saturn, and unicorns would then magically appear out of the forest and dance in my back yard.  All the potential I saw, my perfect future, did not come to pass. They were perfectly happy.... being who they were.  I was crushed to discover that my imagination led me into thinking they actually were interested in performing up to MY idea of potential.   I am learning how to not break my own heart anymore because of delusions of could be’s, if only’s, and when. 

I wish I had a dollar for every friendship, love relationship, job, and residence I stayed in hoping it/they would change and evolve into what I viewed as its full realm of possibility.   Frankly, I believe I’ve lived just about my whole life in that manner. A dreamer, and the classic eternal optimist, I try to find the silver lining in people and situations in life.  While a job just might be “right up my alley” and in an area I excel (as so many friends have reinforced from time to time in my professional journey) that does not necessarily mean the powers that be, are of the same mindset, have the funding, or want anything to change in their organization to avail themselves of MY full potential.  Too often, I have hung in there far longer than is conducive to my pocketbook and serenity, watching brain cells die by the dozens, and hoping for the break when employers see how much untapped potential is just waiting to evolve.

I’ve made the decision not to do this anymore.  There is something to be said for hanging tough in some situations, or recognizing, sometimes, things (growth/advancement/progress) take time.  But, when there is more than one person (me) involved in the process of change, there are situations, whereby to hang in there is simply a recipe for lost years, and broken hearts. When the reality doesn't align with the vision, over and over again, it's time.

I had the opportunity to pay it forward and say the same thing to someone very dear to me recently. “Do you love her, or do you love the idea of her?”    He too was grappling with the disconnect between his delusion of qualities in his mate and the actual behavior. He too was heartbroken, that he could see all this potential for a perfect future with her.  If only.... she would be different.  It was crushing to see him struggle so. Yet, gratifying in a selfish way, to be able to finally see so clearly in another human being, something I have struggled with most of my life.  I was not alone, and I think I have finally after so many years, learned the lesson.  I saw with 20/20 clarity how dysfunctional it was.  I saw how dishonorable it was too.    I don’t know if it’s completely true, love is blind, but it is certainly delusionaly hopeful to a fault at times. I wonder how much of our lives we spend trapped in the waiting room, rather than getting on with it...  seeing potential, rather than reality.  

Why do we do it?  What is the motivator? Control.  Fear.  Laziness.  Ego.  God complex.  Maybe on some level its safe to hide behind others inability to give us what we deserve or need.  We don’t have to do anything then; except blame. Who are we to say what someone’s potential is? Why do we think we have the power to guide others onto our path of perceived authenticity.  Even if we think our vision of their potential, is honest, and honorable, why do we think their progress or growth must be in our timetable?  We simply make ourselves miserable when we look at the potential of something outside of ourselves.  

There is nothing wrong with seeing the reality of the disconnect between what we have, and what WE need, and making the changes WE need to move forward into our joy filled, purposeful, loving life.  We don’t need to get our heart broken because people, jobs, or situations don’t suit our needs.  We can make changes.... sooner.   Life is precious and we have enough to deal with navigating our own journey.  We don't need to  stay trapped inside a broken heart because life is not performing up to our expectations. We don't need to wait for other people or circumstances to change.  It is more honorable to say,"This is not aligned with my vision for my life", than to burrow into resentment and heartbreak.  

So, I shared my story with my beloved conflicted friend;  the many heartbreaks of staying stuck waiting for the arrival of all the potential I saw. In jobs, with friends, with men.  That’s the kind of heartbreak that plucks at the juiciness and wonder of life and takes God and his plan out of the equation.  

Sometimes facing reality is the biggest catalyst to moving us towards our dreams come true.  

Fourteen Years Later............

I  bought this wonderful new book called Ten Years Later.  It was written by Hoda Kotb, an NBC morning show host and I knew it would be inspirational when I saw her interviewed.  In her battle with breast cancer a few years ago she has her own stories of tenacity, survival and coming out the other side, renewed.   This time of year, I seem to need an extra dose of nurturing and encouragement and sensed this might be the boost I needed.    Maybe I do suffer from some moderate seasonal affective disorder too; my good friends have been telling me that for years.  I don’t care for the cold, drearier days and winter weather.  I’m a fair weather girl and love warm air and sunshine tickling and  toasting my skin, bare feet all snuggled into silky, sand beaches.  To live like that at least part of the year, is a bucket list item yet to be checked off.   Yet, intuitively, I know what it is: this wave of exhaustion and sadness that happens this time, every year.    Quite simply, when you lose people you love on the deepest soul level, those losses remain seared on your heart never to be forgotten completely. After all this time, I might get up on “that morning” and forget it’s “that day” for a few hours, but my spirit always weeps silent tears.  The enormity of this loss invades my subconscious. Quite simply, I miss him.  Fourteen years later. 

Yet, Hoda’s book triggered some positive reflection for me too.  So much has happened in fourteen years; much of it full of really joyful events, a few bucket list items checked off, the experience of love again, and some authentic serenity unlike I have ever known.  A little healthy  pride has arrived too as I humbly reflect and recognize I’ve become more courageous, capable, and rather independent.  That makes me smile.  I think it would him too.   I reflected back on all of this in awe.  Mostly because I remember, a week before his death, a social worker hugged me and said, "I promise you it will not always hurt this badly. Your life will be different, yes.  But it will be good again."  Reciprocating her hug, and forcing a smile on my tear-streaked face, the voice in my head said, "You clueless bitch... you have no idea."  Even though the words were never spoken, I owe her a telepathic apology.  I think the best way to do that is to be available to others who need to hear those words, even when they don't think they do.  Just like me..... And share my own experience, strength and hope.  

The necessity (and what I now recognize as the gift) of a healing process; something I reluctantly entered into kicking and screaming because it hurt just too damn much, evolved in its own perfect time.   The ethereal spark that lives somewhere within all of us, began to thirst for joy again and forced me to look inward for not only survival, but growth, and nourishment.  Amazing.   Fourteen years ago, this life, my life,  I was convinced at best, I would limp through half-heartedly.  The other half of my heart seemed too irreparably shattered.  Yet, this new life, while different, is brimming with blessings.  I wouldn’t have believed I would feel blessed again, especially  if you had told me at year five of my grief process.  Or, again around year ten, but, my life, as are  ALL lives, is a journey. I have come to accept and even welcome that thought, especially since his death. Change. Grow. Regress. Grieve. Celebrate. Love. Heartbreak. Love some more.  Over and over again.  My life, even without him, has truly been an evolution, ultimately leading  me to a sense of purpose, authenticity, and so much gratitude.  Leading me HOME to my true HOME.  I know where I come from, where I  belong, and where I will someday, wind up.  

 Fourteen years later, lots of change, and many obstacles as well.  Most of them, I castigated  the poor deceased man that drenched me in more love than I’d ever felt in my life.  How dare he leave me with all these responsibilities, a quarter of our income, and no real help on the horizon?  Every broken appliance, vehicle, and arrow to my heart, I blamed on his departure. He died and left me: abandoned  as so many others had before him- since my early childhood.   It was all his fault when bills piled up, medical issues brought me to my knees,  the flimsy white wooden shingles  began to age off the side of the house, and every new worry etched a wrinkle in my once smooth face.  And, moving from a size 4 to a size 10? Well of course, he was responsible for that too!  

Fourteen years later I recognize,  all along, he has loved me from afar.  He's always sent the perfect opportunities, people, lovers, heart breakers, and most of all angels to guide me along the right path... for me.  A road that will ultimately lead me, someday, into welcoming arms.  I know he'll greet me and lead me by the hand to my Creator.  We'll stand side by side in front the of big screen replaying all those scenes from my life.  As it's all playing out, dramatic.... Hollywood movie style,  I’m sure he’ll bop me gently on the head, and say, “See, when you believed we were ignoring your request for what you thought you wanted, and what you thought was best for you, we were protecting you.”  Now, can I go play some golf, please?”  

We have such limited vision in those times of the darkness of our soul and are often unable to view our sojourn in big picture fashion.  The best we can do, is simply keep moving.  Keep moving and believing that there IS a larger purpose and it is all meaningfully developing. Our role is to simply ultimately trust in that, as we piece it all together. Sometimes we randomly try to shove disparate pieces where they don't belong, but that's okay.   We do the best we know how with the knowledge and the tools we have available to us at the time.  

My gift under my pillow

I know he’s still  with me.  All I need to do is close my eyes.   I dreamed about him the other night.  He radiated this soft  glow....  like the light I saw reflected in his eyes every time he looked at me in life... gentle, full of pride and pure love. Of all the wonderful gifts he gave me and brought into our relationship, that look is my most treasured and precious. 

This morning I was changing the sheets on my bed. I discovered I don’t need to close my eyes to touch in with him.   In fact if I want to connect with him, I ought  to keep them wide open and pay attention.  Lying tucked underneath the mound of pillows I snuggle into every night was a tiny white paper heart.  It appeared the love fairy left an offering. 

Or wait.... was it left over from some Christmas wrapping over the holidays?  I think not. I’ve changed those sheets since then.  

I think, fourteen years later, he's reminding me of  the pure unconditional love I’ve been privileged to feel.  Most of all I know he wants me to know, I will always be in HIS heart too.    

I AM able to deal with the trials and tribulations, and even the occasional Squirrels in the Attic, just fine, on my own.   A heavenly host has got my back, led by one phenomenal man who I was privileged to have in my life for not nearly long enough.  

January 30, 1999. Carpe Diem My Love.  I celebrate you.... and me, and the  anniversary of your homecoming. Fore!  Play Golf.... If you could check in occasionally, I would be most grateful. See you someday.... until then,  hugs and kisses from below.  

XoXo