The Pleiades

     I'd never been to California, yet during the past several months many people living out there have been urging me to come and visit.  Ah, 'twould be nice, but no denaro.  Then unexpectedly I was invited to the annual meeting and retreat of Service Space. My heart stopped for a moment.  This was huge!  Our founder, Nipun Mehta, would be there, a man I deeply admire.  Other folks I knew of but never met would also attend.  In my mind these were the game changers, and they wanted me to come.
     Two questions plagued me, why and how.  Why did I think I needed to go?  While my default response would have been no, my intuition shoved me into saying yes.  Then how in the world would I pay for the airfare? 
     The night after I accepted, I woke up in a panic.  What was I thinking of?  I can't go to California!  But in the next instant a voice cut through the noise.  FEAR NOT!  Instantly the panic ceased.  The next day I got a grant writing job which covered the cost of the ticket.  As long as I was out there, I thought I should see the friends who encouraged me to visit.  I emailed them about my trip, and effortlessly the stars moved to assist me.  Two of these friends offered me a bed, so no hotels.  Other friends offered to drive me everywhere I needed to go, so no car to rent.  John dropped me off and picked me up at the airport, so no parking costs.  Magic!
     Then came the why.  Why do I need to go now and why did I feel compelled to say yes?  I put the question aside when I arrived at Mesa del Sol.  I'd never been to a place like this!  We were in the mountains--high, dry, bright--with a faint smell of sage brush hanging in the air.  I was immediately absorbed into our loving group of 25 and made to feel quite comfortable.  Yet, something felt odd.  Someone asked me how I was doing.  I replied, "I'm not sure.  I'm not here.  Someone is here, but it's not me.  But she's having a great time!"  Whatever anxiety drives my ego and claims to be me was left 3,000 miles behind.  A purer version of me had arrived, one that was so completely open.
     I took advantage of the surroundings to enjoy a little solitude and the starry night, and out of the corner of my eye I spotted the Pleiades cluster.  Since my vision is not what it used to be I cannot look for this cluster straight on; it recedes into the blackness.  But when I don't look so hard, when I look past it, when I allow my peripheral vision to see it, it becomes clear.  Then I realized that I had to find my reason to why in the same way.  Going after it intellectually would reveal nothing.  I just had to let the answers reveal themselves to me.
   They did.  Sure, I was here to get better acquainted with the group.  But I found myself having astounding conversations which could not have happened under any other circumstances.  I met people with whom I developed an immediate and deep connection, and we continue our conversations now.  Because I needed a ride to my next destination, my traveling companions ended up being photographed for a book my host was publishing.  Another friend expressed her wonder that I had come at exactly that time because there was no one else with whom she could share a particular story. 
     The stars move in strange courses, don't they?  While it may be tempting to connect the dots and declare a constellation, I'm finding it's much more amazing to let them connect me to people and circumstances who are, just for the moment, obscured by the darkness.  But when all is revealed, Holy Mother of Pearl, it is magic!
    

Accepting Angels as We Find Them

    Today's theme harkens back to previous ones on giving and receiving.  But this time it's with an uncomfortable twist.
     You may recall Maria and her husband Luis (the Latino Thich Nhat Hanh).  It is so easy to love them.  They are quiet, generous, and the language barrier creates a boundary we can step in and out of, but it is a boundary just the same.  I've always said, boundaries are my friends.  I love boundaries.  They give me control.  Like floodgates, when I need watering I open them; when I'm drowning I close them.
     On the other side of my house is "Jack."  Jack is an elderly man with an alcohol problem and few friends.  I've seen a couple of what look like social workers, family members, and fellow alcoholics.  But even their visits are infrequent.  His eyes are perpetually glazed over, he can be coherent but more often than not he isn't, and he is often seen in his bathrobe.  He lives next door one floor above me.  It is important for you to understand this.  This photo is taken from my second floor porch.  My car is ground level...obviously.  But it is from this porch that Jack makes his presence known to me in the most unnerving manner.
     "HEY LADY!!! HOW YA DOIN'?"  The size of the font does not do justice to the sound of his voice blaring out from above me when I least expect it, from dawn to black of night.  If he is sitting on his porch when he sees me, he'll treat me to this most upsetting greeting.  It's upsetting because a) I can't see him, so it catches me off guard, b) my mind is generally on something else, and I'm jarred out of my thoughts, and c) there's no privacy from him.  I spent half the summer trying to catch a glimpse of his porch before heading out.  If I saw him, I'd wait for a more opportune moment to dash to my car and beat it out of the driveway.  I felt like an escapee from my own home.
     But being on Service Space has opened my mind to being in the world in different ways.  So when Thanksgiving came with Maria's 20-pound apples, John and I decided to share some with Jack.  John volunteered to go up to his apartment and deliver them.  Jack was so appreciative that he reciprocated an hour later by showing up at my front door barefoot and in his bathrobe with a carton of Borden's--Borden's--egg nog.  "I don't buy no cheap stuff," Jack assured me, and insisted we join him for a fortified glass of it.  We thanked him but made our excuses.
     And that's when I started to thaw a bit.  I realized that in his own way, Jack wants to be a part of our neighborhood.  He wants friends.  I still want boundaries, but I can be open to his greetings now without jumping out of my skin.  The scales really tipped just last week when he called out to me again, this time adding, "I'm always looking out for you!"  And in that moment, I was deeply touched.  Jack makes me uncomfortable because he breaches my boundaries, but he is looking out for me just the same.  He is another neighborhood angel who cares about me and wants to be cared about in return, even if I can only do it for a moment or two.  Angels may be drunk or dirty or noisy, but they are still angels.
     As I was taking my walk past his house yesterday, he yelled out to me, "I got it!"
     "What, Jack?" I asked.
     "It's a secret!"
     "Ok, I'll talk to you later."  And later, he showed up at my door, decked out in his bathrobe with two cartons of Borden's egg nog!  He mumbled something sotto voce that made no sense to me at all, but I genuinely smiled and thanked him; and he went on his way.
     So, egg nog anyone?

Pax tecum.

Faith over Fear Part One

     What is your life about?  What are the core values?  What do you want it to mean when it is done?  I ask myself these questions on a daily basis.  The answers are easy:  I want to be of service, I want to lead a more prayerful, mindful life, and I want to be wildly philanthropic.  I can't think of a more delightful way to pass my mortal hours than making someone's life a little lighter, putting more wholesome energy into the world, and supporting the work of others to make the world a better place.  This is no Miss America acceptance speech;  I mean it, down in the bones of my soul.  My life is about service through writing, teaching, facilitating, speaking, prayer, and philanthropy.  I want to use these gifts so much it hurts.
     At the same time, I have to pay bills; I want to participate in society.  That takes money.  Problem is I've never been comfortable holding down a job.  Nine to five, office politics, commuting--all of this just drains me, and it never really allows me to fulfill my mission unless I do that in my spare time.  Such a life is not for me, despite the fact that I have spent years doing it.  It seems such a waste.  I love "working."  I want to be supported through my work. I hate holding down "jobs."  But I've sacrificed my gifts and desires in order to make money.  I've given up my Life to do life.  
     Exactly two years ago I quit my job, expecting my dream to come true in a flash.  Instead my life went haywire.  The paid work I intended to do did not pan out.  Money was running short.  I was swinging from inspiration to abject terror on a regular basis.  I knew what I wanted to do, but how could I pull in the money?  Stay the course...no, get a job...no, stay the course....  I drove myself to distraction and anguish.  How do I get this to sync up?  But in that chaos and pain, here's what I learned:  When I was able to still the fear, things began to flow.  While the "jobs" I pursued evaded me, money came to me in the nick of time in the form of gifts and unexpected work.  
     Another such financial precipice was looming before me recently.  Not knowing how I would get through the next few months, I finally surrendered and sent up a prayer a few days ago saying, "I'm going to trust that things will work out.  I've got my passions for a reason, and holding down a job I don't really want interferes with fulfilling my mission even if it is taking care of me financially.  God, you have to figure this out for me, because I cannot."  And despite not knowing how this would play out, I let go of the fear, the confusion, the waffling, and I trusted.  I chose to live my Life on my terms.  I chose to be at peace.  A few days later, I unexpectedly received some inheritance money that will allow me to do all of the above for the next three months!
   This is the fifth time some work or monetary gift has come out of nowhere to help me.  Once is an interesting phenomenon.  Twice is a coincidence.  But five is a pattern, and it's trustworthy.  I don't know what will happen three months from now, and I am beginning to believe that's not my problem.  Until the end of February, I will be living my dream life, serving wherever I can, being philanthropic, developing a deeper contemplative and prayer-filled life. Because when God answers a prayer, I am obliged to fulfill my end of the bargain.
     To lead the life of our heart's desire requires us to let go of fear in order for the Universe to work with us.  We read this in many different spiritual traditions:

• In Zen Buddhism we find in the Five Mindfulness Trainings - I will practice coming back to the present moment to be in touch with the refreshing, healing and nourishing elements in me and around me, not letting regrets and sorrow drag me back into the past nor letting anxieties, fear, or craving pull me out of the present moment. 
• From the Christ's Sermon on the Mount - Do not be anxious about your life, what you shall eat or what you shall drink, nor about your body, what you shall put on.  Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? 
• From the Five Precepts of Reiki - Just for today I will be free from worry.  
• In Mary Baker Eddy's "Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures" - Always begin your treatment by allaying the fear of the patients.  Silently reassure them as to their exemption from disease and danger.  Watch the result of this simple rule of Christian Science, and you will find that it alleviates the symptoms of every disease.  If you succeed in wholly removing the fear your patient is healed.

This fascinates me.  These very different traditions all point to fear as that which separates us from our higher self, from wholeness, from fulfilling our purpose, from God.  So now I want to live my life as an experiment.  If I follow my heart's desire to be of service, to be philanthropic, to lead a more contemplative and prayerful life, does God provide the means?  It certainly seems so.  I deeply believe it is time to let go of my faith as an intellectual construct and give it breath and blood.  One does not live an extraordinary life by being conventional or buying into fears.  I don't know what my prospects will look like three months from now.  I no longer have to.  In the next three months, I will live the life I have longed for, in service, in peace, in congruence with my beliefs and values.  I'll let you know how it goes.

     If you could reduce your fear, how would you spend your life's energy, your gifts, your time?  I'd love to know.  Let me invite you to comment here, and share support and inspiration with others.

Pax tecum.

BSUR

     "BSUR, SUC, SIMIM*."
     I can always count on a James Taylor song for theme music in my life.  Do you get it?  No?  Read the letters individually.
     Whenever I get to thinking I need to do more to make a difference, life shakes me up, brushes me off, and sets my thought aright again.  It was the day before Thanksgiving when I heard a knock on my door.  It was my young neighbor, Juan, with a beautiful floral arrangement for me.  
     "This is from my grandmother.  She says you are so wonderful, and she wanted you to have this."
 Juan and his grandparents, Luis and Maria, are from Puerto Rico.  Juan is bilingual; Luis and Maria speak sólo españoles; I speak English and really poor French.  I gave them some tomatoes from my garden when they moved in this summer,  and I smile and wave hello when I see them; that's as far as we can get.  Luis is retired with a heart condition.  He looks and walks like Thich Nhat Hanh.  But to keep busy he repairs the home he rents, rakes his leaves...pulls out the grass in my driveway cracks, brings in my garbage barrel, rakes my leaves...his generosity is stunning.  All I can do is offer effusive Italian hand gestures akin to throwing kisses and bake oatmeal cookies.  So what the heck was Maria thinking?
     "Juaaaaaaan!"  I said after picking my jaw up off the ground.  "I don't do anything for your grandmother!  My Lord, this is so beautiful!"
     "No, no.  She thinks you are so good.  She wishes she could talk to you, though."
     I looked up and saw her standing on the second floor deck.  Barefoot, I ran across the driveway and up the steps to give her a big hug and kiss.  "Merry."  You thought the word was used only with "Christmas," didn't you?  Maria is "merry" personified.  She just beams when she is delighted, and chuckles they way my Grandma Daddona did; they are so much alike.  Juan followed up behind, and I made him translate for me:  "Tell her I will write her letters.  I can translate them on the computer and put them in your mailbox.  Then she can write back, put her letters in my box, and I'll translate those."  He did so, and Maria got even merrier.

My beta apple vs Maria's alpha apple

     But wait, there's more!  Two hours later there was another knock on my door.  This time it was Luis with a bulging plastic shopping bag.  Again, the language barrier being what it is, I relied on facial expressions to go through the gamut of "hello," "what's in here?" "oh my stars," and "thank you."  I think I managed "gracias" for the latter.   Then, with peace as every step, the Latino Buddhist monk glided back across the driveway.  Inside were three apples, six bananas, and three sweet potatoes each the size of a basketball.  I'm serious.  One apple could feed a family of four.  I'm betting that in a former life Luis and Maria were the ones responsible for the loaves and fishes when Jesus fed the multitude.  Did their generosity know no bounds?  Apparently not.  And what the heck did I do to deserve it?
     Well, it seems just being as I am is all it took.  Seeing them, smiling to them, and making silly gestures tell them that this middle-aged American white woman is safe, accepting, and enjoys talking with their beloved grandson.  Seeing myself through the eyes of another culture tells me that an open heart is more valuable than a job title or how much education I have or how I maintain my driveway.  Without language, we can sense the best in each other, because we hear with our hearts.  And so they inspire me to BSIM in the best way possible all the time.  As do you, my Gentle Readers.

Pax tecum.

*From the album Flag

Stranger than Fiction

     This is pretty much what I looked like when I read the email a few days ago.
     I had given up on an even part-time career in voice overs due to the never-ending equipment problems I was having in my home studio.  You can't market yourself if you can't trust your software.  Given that realization, I was ready to ask my web designer (Bob Tyrrell, he's the best!) to take down the site when this email came in:  
     I found you on the web and wondered if you'd be interested in a voice over job.  The budget is $XXX.  The script is attached.
     No fool, I, immediately I googled this company and the client they represented.  Both really exist and are quite legitimate.  But I was getting out of voice overs.  He may not want someone who's never done a gig before.  What happens when he finds out I no longer have working equipment,  maybe I should...shut up.  I wrote back with a yes.  This was one of those times when my higher self actually trumped my ego and propelled me into the fear of the unknown.
     What makes this so improbable is that NO ONE GOOGLES FOR VOICE OVER TALENT!  Even a fool knows there are studios and web brokers like voice123.com you contact to find someone.  I figured George was a rookie.  He wasn't.  I was warned by coaches and talent that people could be difficult to work with.  He wasn't.  I told him I no longer had my own studio and would have to record somewhere external.  He gave me more money.  He didn't do anything extravagant, he wasn't effusive in his dealings with me.  Simply, he was a pro with a good attitude.  And in my eyes, that made him trustworthy. 
     This meant I could share my good fortune with Jim, the owner and engineer of the studio I had in mind.  Things have been tough for him, as they are for the 99% in these economic times.  But he is a generous soul nonetheless.  He gave me a very fair price for his services saying, "I don't have to gouge someone to make a living.  I just want to be able to take care of myself and do a good job."  I knew I was in the right hands.
     Then George contacted me again.  The client wanted me to record a longer script for their website.  Could I give him a quote for that and record it at the same time as the other?  "Make sure it's fair for you," George admonished.  I gave him my fee, and he didn't flinch.  More money!  And more fun, since I loved the three-minute script.
     I rehearsed the copy, got feedback from John, and was able to improve my delivery.  I also made a point to remove all fear from my consciousness.  After all, I reasoned, this was a gift from God.  Why would I trash such an extraordinary gift with my anxieties?  What an insult!  Besides, it was an opportunity to be of service, a big value in my life.  So I went to the studio feeling at peace about my abilities yet jazzed about this opportunity.  Nothing goes perfectly.  I blew the first line on the first read.  But rather than get upset, I said, "Great!  Got that out of the way."  Then went on to give two nearly flawless reads.  The other scripts were just as carefree.  When it was all over, George said there would probably be more work for me, so he'll keep me on their roster.
     What an extraordinary gift this was!  Completely out of the blue.  And I was able to give some business to a terrific engineer as well.  When the check comes in, I will also be tithing to a couple of local food banks so that even more can share in my good fortune.  This is the stuff one only sees in the movies.  It can't possibly happen in real life.  But then again, life is stranger than fiction.  And why George chose to find a talent through Google, I may never know.  But am I grateful!
      I wish you many blessings this Thanksgiving week, and I hope you will share your gratitudes with others in the comment field below.  I'd love to hear your good news.  We all would!

Pax tecum.
    

Connecting in Chaos

     Sandy was quite a gal!  Since most of my readers are from Connecticut, I send out my hopes that you are well, warm, and safe.  By some grace or luck, my neighborhood escaped both damage and power outages.  My parents are shuttling between my home and my sister's since they are without power.  I have not been able to reach Supercuts the next town over for a haircut, so clearly their power has not been restored.  I have not heard back from a client in Bridgeport for whom I am supposed to start a job.  (These are not complaints but observations.)  Then I read that New York City is crippled.  Subway tunnels are flooded, the city is running out of gasoline.   I feel as though I am living in a dream while everyone else around me must feel they are living in a nightmare.  The disparity in fortune is mind-boggling.
     Lately John and I have mutually expressed our desire to live more simply.  But what we also discover is that the added benefit of this is the development of deeper and wider connections with others.  Simplicity cannot be about rugged individualism.  It must be about mutual support. We need less when we can share more.  When we offer a chain saw, a sofa to sleep on, or space in our garage we have cause to connect, to freely give to others what we have in abundance.  We participate in what is called the gift economy.  And nothing brings people closer together than that.  Whatever divisiveness we may have sensed in the upcoming elections seems to have yielded to more immediate needs and a concern for others on a local level.  Would that we could see each other across the country--or even across the county--as our next door neighbors and nurture that sense of connection all the time.
     This posting today will be brief.  In the face of this much upheaval there is little I can say that would have any use.  But I can offer a hot shower, a hot meal, and some company to those of you living in my area who might need something.  And if you are looking for something to do, just keep in mind that the Red Cross is in dire need of blood.  If you can make a donation, please consider it.  
     My prayers and love are with you all.

Pax tecum.

Reflections in Fur: Part Deux

     Okay.  I succumbed to feline mind control.  Larry decided he'd had it with outdoor living, so he just barged into my house one day and wouldn't leave.  He is endearing, affectionate, and absolutely infatuated with me, but he's gunning for Bucky.  As I feared, Larry is an unneutered male.  Territorial with a capital "T."  It has been a trying three weeks as I attempt to keep the two at bay.  When I took Larry to the vet for his shots, it was discovered that he has the feline version of HIV.  While Bucky has had his shot for this, it is not 100% effective against the disease, especially since it is transmitted by blood.  And what better way to transmit blood than by fighting tooth and claw?  So not only must I keep the two of them apart for Bucky's sake, I cannot let Larry outdoors anymore.  He is forever under quarantine.
     The vet suggested I put Larry up for adoption with someone who might take a special-needs cat.  I called animal rescue shelters and sent out gobs of emails, but to no avail.  Thankfully Bucky loves the outdoors and is being a good sport about this, but it's getting cold and wet out there.  So I put Larry in the laundry room when I go to sleep or leave for a few hours so that Bucky can sneak in, eat, drink, and relax a bit.
     So what was Larry reflecting for me?  Trust.  When faced with intractable problems, I send up a prayer:  "Make a way out of no way."  I was having major fears.  Would I need to give Bucky up for adoption for his health's sake?  Would I make myself crazy trying to keep two cats apart for the rest of their lives?  Could I afford his upkeep?  But through it all, the Still Small Voice just said, "Wait.  Give this time.  There's a solution."  And so, I put my fears aside and trusted; what else was I to do?
     A few days later my vet called to inquire if I had found a placement for Larry.  I told her no.  "Well, I just had a client come in who's looking for a companion for his quarantined FIV cat.  Here's his number.  He'd like to talk to you."  Colin and I spoke for a good long time.  This man is serious about cats; he has eight!  And his home is set up to accommodate each of them with their varying needs.  After his family visited here, they all decided that Larry would be a good match for Skittles.  To top it off, they graciously offered to take the neutering responsibility off my hands, saving me a bundle of money!
     Larry will go to his new home November 2nd.  Bucky can return to the comfort of his home, and I can relax...with some tears to be sure.  Larry is a dear and I do love him.  But I know two things:  he'll be in good hands, and I can trust a Loving Power greater than my fears and limited resources to bring about a perfect solution.  I hope this inspires you to trust more, too.

Pax tecum.
    

Being Vulnerable to Gifts - Part 2

Wow!  What a great day and a half I had at the Cape Cod Writers Conference.  Imagine a place where you just walk up to people and ask, "What do you write about?" English gardens, the vegan diet, soldiering in Vietnam, poetry.  Whether novice or published author, all were willing to share advice and experiences.  Sadly, it was nowhere near the shoreline, but I did have an awesome cod dinner.

I knew when I went there something extraordinary would happen.  It did.  But not what I could have foreseen.  I sat reading in the large comfortable lobby when inexplicably I ascended into a state of higher consciousness.  This has happened to me twice before but under very different and very private circumstances.  Here I was out in public!

I began people watching intensely.  The playful exchange between a middle-aged man and his three-year-old daughter.  A gorgeous woman in her 70s looking every inch turquoise blue and seaside fashionable.  My heart blew open.  How extraordinary all these people seemed to me, even though I knew nothing about them.  

Then I saw him, the young man I came here for.  Dressed modestly in a white shirt and black trousers, he politely approached the man at the registration desk and asked for something.  The clerk replied, "We don't have any openings at the moment, but you can fill out our application, and maybe we'll have a job for you in a few weeks."  He took the papers and looked around this bustling lobby.  I smiled and silently drew him over to the empty seat at my table.  Just as silently he spent the next 20 minutes filling out the form.  I heard a persistent voice in my head, "You are so dearly loved.  You are so dearly loved!"  As a Reiki practitioner I knew simply to get out of the way and just hold the space for this love to flood through me to him.  I would glance at him from time to time, but nothing seemed to divert his attention.  Why he needed this gift I'll never know.  But it was imperative that he receive it.  With his application completed, he got up and returned it to the clerk who kindly assured him they'd keep it on file.  Then he walked out.

The rest of the program was immensely helpful to me, and my acquaintance's workshop opened my mind to new ways of writing.  But nothing could compare with this experience.  The conference ended.  The weather turned ugly.  I packed up the car.  It would be a stormy ride back to Connecticut.  As I eased out of the parking lot into the traffic teeming with weekend tourists, I struggled to read the street signs as I made my way out of Hyannis.  And then one last miracle.  I saw my young man biking with a friend through these same streets, smiling and laughing with abandon.  Mission accomplished apparently.

Pax tecum.

Being Vulnerable to Gifts

There's a line from James Taylor's, Baby Boom Baby, that I've been singing to myself a lot these days:  What do I do if my dream comes true?  We can spend so much time planning, worrying, and visualizing that when a long-awaited event actually happens we shrink back a step.  Uh oh.  Now what?

In my case I whipped out my credit card.  That was hard in this time of fiscal austerity.  But when the Universe handed me the gift of an opportunity, "no, thank you" was not an option.  Just a couple of days before I had sent up a prayer saying, "I need things to come into my life now.  I can't wait any more, and I'm tired of blocking them.  I am willing to let go of all the self-imposed limitations on my life.  I am open to receiving. " 

Acting upon my new-found courage, I reached out to two authors I admire.  We are merely acquaintances, but that was enough for me to send them my declaration that I was now pursuing a career in writing and ask for some advice.  I imagined prescriptions on how many pages to write daily, the useful e newsletters.  But noooooooo!  Two days later I got the first gift from one author which set my world reeling.  "You've got to go to writers conferences.  There's one in Cape Cod next week, and I'll be there."  My heart stopped for a few seconds.  I have been pinching pennies for some time as I go through this evolution.  I know how much conferences and hotels cost.  It was madness to think I should spend $400 and drive up there.  But resistance seemed like ingratitude.  So I signed up for a day and a half of courses and one night in a posh conference center on the Cape.  I cannot imagine what will happen when I get there, but something will.  If nothing else, I'm getting some really good seafood.

The second gift was from the author who just happens to be living the life I want.  I met her at a book signing and liked her instantly.  She responded to my email by saying some very comforting things and giving me her phone number, encouraging me to call her when I needed help.

Reaching past my inhibitions to ask for something is hard enough.  Saying "yes, thank you" is harder still because it propels me into the world at large.  I'm now vulnerable to gifts!  Who knows what else may befall me and how I shall have to respond?  But the logical conclusion to this line of questioning is what gifts might I bear for others?  Whose life might I step into at the right time in answer to their prayers with the gift they've been hoping for because I chose to step outside my own limitations?  I can't wait to find out.  And I promise to send postcards along the way!

Pax tecum.