Trixie

First of all, I am not afraid of bugs.  I just like them to keep to their business.  No fear.  Respect.  For all creatures, great and small.

Until, looking up from my morning coffee, I see a very large winged being sitting on the wall across the table from me, and I recognize that winged being to be a wasp.

All that no fear, respect for all creatures great and small, goes straight out the window.  It could fly at me.  I could swing at it. It could become defensive and swoop in, land on my arm, sting me with its nasty stinger!  I could swat it.  It could sting again and again before it dies!

I become aware that, given that it has yet to become airborne and done little more than crawl along the picture rail a foot from the ceiling, I might want to come up with a plan B in dealing with The Wasp Invasion.

I will name it.  I will call it Trixie.  Immediately I notice that I am now interested in seeing what is going on with Trixie.  Is she lost?  She's been crawling for a while.  I wonder if she is having trouble finding the door.  I open it wide for her.  She doesn't seem to notice it.  I wave the newspaper to encourage her to fly in the direction of the door.  No deal.  She is going to need more help.  I extend the edge of the newspaper close to her.  Trixie doesn't seem to consider a ride on a newspaper the avenue to her escape from the kitchen.  I push her with the edge of it, hoping to get her flying in the right direction.  Trixie falls to the floor.  She can't fly!  I gently scoop her up onto the newspaper and set her outside.  I wish Trixie well and close the door.  Trixie on the outside and me and my coffee inside.

I share this little saga because it has me wondering if giving the thing that has become an issue in our lives a name that makes it seem less threatening is a way to make it approachable. Might allow for a shift in perspective, for new information to come in, new solutions.

I won't mind if you borrow the name of my wasp.  I'm pretty sure Trixie will be okay with it too.

Every Moment Is A Pearl

If we were to ask our souls this question, and I challenge you to try, we'd get, "Absolutely, when you are on that richly challenging and beautiful planet referred to as earth, every moment is most surely a pearl."

If we were to ask our souls how this could possibly be so, given the abundance of moments that appear most definitely un-pearl-like, the response might be:

"Look for it."

In lieu of a New Year's Resolution, I offer the challenge of engaging, for just seven days, in the constant commitment to look for the pearl.  In every moment.

If you enjoyed your week of pearl hunting and you'd like to extend that most ecstatic experience of sharing in the perspective of the soul, by all means, be my guest.

Bella

Last April, a friend of mine drove the thirteen hours from Southern California to San Francisco to drop off a tortoise.  I like them, you see, and my friend doesn't because tortoises hiss.  Easy to see that being hissed at every morning might not inspire a bonding experience.  Especially in situations where the hisser is foisted on one by the care-taker family member moving out.  And they do have a bit of a cold look to their eye.

I don't mind the steely look or the breathy statements, nor the six months it took Bella (renamed in the first week--they thought she was a boy and I would be insulted as well if I'd been named after a teenage mutant ninja turtle) to warm up enough to recognize me as her food source.  And let me tell you, Bella is a foodie.  She is ecstatic about fresh garden roses.  She sucks up dandelion greens like they're pasta, will take an occasional nasturtium blossom, and destroys romaine leaves.

I consider this, and her interest in my socks when she visits in the kitchen, to be signs of her personality blooming.  Which brings me to the point of sharing this fortuitous little event in my life:

There will always be times when things arrive unsolicited on our doorstep.  We can consider them the gods cursing us, or we can dig deep and find the joy and the love in them.  Remembering as well that when we ask for help in that prayerful way of connecting with the light that guides us, we will be given all the help we need.

Wishing you days filled with fresh roses and endless delicious greens--
Bella and Maureen

A Quote

Here's a short reminder from the pages of Clearings: Helping Lost Souls Find The Way Home, written in reflecting on a lost soul looking for a way to seek revenge to right the wrongs done to him:

You can let anger fuel your life.  If you do, it will blind you and steal joy and happiness from you.  That is the price you will inevitably pay.

Lay the anger down.  Let it flow into the earth.
Come back to peace.

Oh yes we can!

I find myself endlessly fascinated by how this creature we know as "human" operates.  Lately, I've been especially aware of its innate resistance to things or actions it perceives as demanding something of it.  This is pretty nuts, considering that anything worthwhile is going to have those initial moments that are nothing but.

I mention this resistance thing because I hope in recognizing that it is a weirdly unavoidable human reaction, we can afford it a lesser place of importance.

So that, for example, we know ahead of time we will be feeling like we simply can't, when we absolutely can do the new and unknown.  Then when the "Oh no I can't!" shows up right on schedule, we let that extra bit of energy and focus it gives carry us right into the doing.

Because we can!

Bellyache

Here's something that could be helpful if you find yourself in a situation where you aren't feeling bad enough to see a doc, and at the same time your belly is not very happy:

Settle in and set up some light around you, starting with the point of light in your center and then letting it bloom out to a comfortable volume.  Focus your attention on your stomach, then:

• Thank it for its service to you
• Express your love for it
• Ask it what it needs
• Sit and wait as long as it takes for a thought to drop in
• Thank it
  
• Tell it what you are going to do in response to its expression of what it needs

It might only want some peppermint or ginger or acidophilis, or a little yogurt.  It might point out to you that what you think isn't such a big deal actually is.  In which case, get to the emergency room.

This conversation with your body part works with all your other body parts as well.  You'll be amazed by the answers you get.

   

Imagination

An imagination is a terrible thing.  I write this in the face of the advice handed out regarding the importance of imagining in getting what we want.  As in, if we can imagine it, if we can dream it, it will come into being.  Very nice.

Very not nice, because while we have this awesomely powerful tool at our fingertips, we have no concept of how powerful it truly is.

I've puzzled over how we have missed seeing what we've got, this tiger we have by the tail, and I've come to the following conclusions:

• We like things to be instant.  Imagining takes time to get results, which means either we give up on the imagining necessary or when we get the result of our imagining, it is so far from the starting point that we do not recognize it.  I once imagined my perfect work environment to be one where I was in a different location every day.  It happened long after I had forgotten about that imagining.  I was assigned seven locations per week, and was so wrung out by the end of the day on Friday that I swore I would never spread myself so thin again.  
• We imagine the details of what we want without looking at the essence of what we are after.  Details alone are not effective at carrying energy.  So avoid imagining things like a blue car with X amount of power and so on.  Imagine a car that has the feeling of what that car will give you as well as type, color, capacity, for example.
• Self talk is a form of imagining.  It is not the universe dumping on us when we indulge in self talk like waiting for the other shoe to drop, expecting the day to not go well, thinking that someone is out to get us, that we will never be truly happy.  It is our enormously powerful ability to imagine in action.  
• Imagining has a partner: gratitude.  I will even say that gratitude is the engine of imagining.  When you sit down to do your imagining, and you'll want to give yourself a few minutes of imagining every day, start with a thank you for all that makes your life wonderful.  Even if the only thing you can come up with is the thought that you are still breathing, and because you are still breathing, there's time for things to get better.

Someone once told me that we earthlings are unique in our ability to be dreamers.  If this is so, I ask that we treasure our gift and use it wisely and well.