During Jasmine’s childhood we would decorate the tree and the house on Thanksgiving weekend.  We both loved this ritual, putting Ella Fitzgerald’s Swinging Christmas CD on and sipping cocoa as we decorated.  Every year Jasmine got a special ornament from both her grandparents and me, so by the time she was ten the majority of the ornaments were hers, and by the time she reached eighteen the tree was heavy with them all.  Any other ornaments got tucked away on the inside branches.

We always spent Christmas at my folks in Florida, so Christmas was double the fun.  It never crossed either one of our minds to not have our own tree.  When she started college in Florida, we no longer went down at Christmas since she wanted to be home.   I would go down with her in January right and celebrate with my folks then.  We still decorated on Thanksgiving weekend, though, before her flight back to Florida.

This year Jasmine had a retail job in Florida, so for the first time in twenty-two years, she wasn’t home for Thanksgiving.  Thomas and I were invited to a friend’s house, and she’s an amazing cook, so we gratefully went and had a wonderful time.  But I missed my traditional Thanksgiving and my girl immensely. The tree didn’t get decorated until the week before Christmas when Jasmine came home, nor did any other preparations get done beforehand.  It just didn’t feel like Christmas without the tree.

The week before Christmas was a flurry of incredible happenings.  My car was hit while it was parked, and what I thought was a slight bit of damage turned out to be more extensive, and I still don’t have it back. Our Heart-Warming Soups were featured on a local TV news program, and we got orders far and wide. We found ourselves with a teenager in the house unexpectedly who will be with us through the New Year and probably beyond.

Then on Thursday Thomas had the car, driving near and far delivering soup. Jasmine and I made a trip to the doctor’s office to determine whether her hacking was pneumonia or a nasty bug (it was a nasty bug). We had hoped to go Christmas shopping on Friday, but that didn’t happen because of her illness.  She coughed most of Friday night and early Saturday morning, falling into a deep sleep at about 5:30.  I fell asleep at about six, only to be roused by Thomas at 9:00 so we could do our shopping for the girls and for Christmas dinner.

We got back home at about 3:00pm on Christmas Eve, and the evening was a flurry of wrapping and preparation.  Christmas was church in the morning and then dinner preparation and then a nap. I was so exhausted by dinner time, I barely even tasted what I ate…

Last week, Jasmine, her best friend, and the teenager went to the dollar store to buy glassware and then to the craft store to buy paint.  They were going to make hand-painted glasses for their friends as belated Christmas gifts.  New Year’s Day the teenager spent the evening excitedly preparing a craft area, complete with newspapers on the kitchen table and a drying area on the floor.  Today all three girls sat around the table chatting and giggling, decorating their glassware, listening to Taylor Swift and singing along.

Me?  I looked at the Christmas tree and the dust and the loads of  laundry and thought how this New Year’s was like no other, how I usually have the tree down and the house cleaned and all in order on New Year’s Eve, and here it was January 2^nd already…  I sighed a little and thought how I should get started.  And then I sat down.  I plugged in all the Christmas lights and sat by the Christmas tree, a little grateful for the gray day that made the twinkling lights glow even more.  I listened to the giggling and Taylor Swift and the joyous noises coming from the craft area in the kitchen.  I smiled and spent the afternoon catching up on emails and paperwork, checking in on the fun being had in the kitchen, and feelng very, very grateful for one more Christmasy day.

My life has been getting busier and busier, with each new day filled with entirely new experiences. In the thick of it I have stayed mindful, trying to stay in the miraculous blessing of it all. Fifteen years ago I thought at my age I would go back to school one last time and become a librarian, surrounded by good books and quiet and living a simple peaceful life. I would read and go for long walks and when the time came, babysit my grandchildren. I was looking forward to a pleasant, uneventful mid-life and beyond.

My life ended up having quite a different story, and of course, I am extremely grateful. The past month and half or so has been non-stop busyness, with Thomas and I working seven days a week, he on the soup business, me on the soup business, my practice, the book, and this whirlwind of a live radio show and webinar. Who knew this life was even possible for me?

I’ve had insanely busy times in my life before, one of the most stellar being when I had taken a brand new job as an Assistant Professor in a brand new city alone with a five year old trying to finish my dissertation in three months. I worked seven days a week then, too, and lost my health, my patience, and a good chunk of my mind.

But this go around is different. Instead of trying to fit the radio show in here and there, I made the trip to the farm. It was a lovely day, from its very early beginning to its rather late end. The train ride out offered scenic views of picturesque towns nestled between pastoral scenes of late fall colors. Nicole picked me up at the station with that huge warm grin of hers, and when we got to the farm, Mike gave me a welcoming hug.

Nicole and I spent the day working on the radio show. Mike prepared a beautiful stir-fry for lunch, and served it to us outside so we could enjoy the treat of an unusually warm late fall day. After lunch Nicole and I and Denver, their new dog, went for a walk and talked about our dreams and visions for the show. I remember just soaking in the beauty of it all, and being pleasantly surprised that I remembered the names of the trees based on the shape and colors of the leaves.

I was a little startled at the memory of how way back in high school I had attended a week- long forestry camp. It had been a time of learning and connection with nature, and I had loved it. We had spent hours in the woods, getting to know the trees based on their bark, their leaves, even their smell. I felt so at home, so at peace, so joyful at that time. While walking on the farm I felt that deep pleasure again for the first time in a long time.

I spent last Saturday trying new recipes, armed with a slew of organic local vegetables that had been given to us. I remembered how before Thomas came into my life and took over most of the cooking duties, I used to cook for the next week on a weekend afternoon. I’d make a pot of beans and rice, a pot of soup or stew or chili, and maybe a pasta dish that we could eat throughout the week.

In my mind I had remembered this as a necessity, something I had to do to feed Jasmine and me during our weeks filled with too many activities and a too busy schedule. But Saturday, as I chopped and sautéed I felt an old and familiar yet surprising pleasure surge through me. I had forgotten how this rhythmic chopping, the intuitive mixing of ingredients and spices, the offering of samples to and getting opinions from loved ones had made my heart sing.

I’m totally delighted and a little surprised by the resurfacing of these wonderful memories. I think that they are coming back now because before I spent so much of my life in worry and fear that those memories didn’t have a place to resurface. I’m grateful that even though I’m getting busier, my heart is opening more and more. I’m looking forward to years of enjoying all that life has to offer. The books will have to wait until bedtime.

As usual, even though I tend to grump a little inside when I have to do something I don’t really want to do, I ended up being grateful for the experience. At the Douglas Center there were about twelve clients sitting around a table eagerly waiting to begin. They had never seen me before, but when I identified myself as part of the soup business they were thrilled. “Nice to meet you, Cynthia!” “We love this job!” “This job pays good!” “We like working for Tina! (their project manager)” “This job is fun!” It truly warmed my heart to see their enthusiasm.

When I talked to the supervisor about stepping up production, he couldn’t have been happier. He told me that the reason the clients come every day is so they can work. They tolerate the other things they must do – social skill development, living skills development, etc., but they all loved to work. And because our product required a little more challenge – they needed to work together, be patient, and use their fine motor skills – they liked packaging our soups the best. Packaging soup was more fun than folding laundry or sweeping floors.

Driving on to the next center, I was amused. Last Christmas, Thomas and I had sat around our kitchen table packaging soups and went almost nuts. It wasn’t mindless enough that we could do it by rote, and not challenging enough to keep us from going nuts. Packaging those soups seemed almost like torture for us, but those clients I saw today saw it as a blessing. And it showed in their work – when I pick up the soups all lined up in a row they look like happy little soldiers. They do a great job for us.

One of the blessings of letting go of judgment is the ability to see from another’s perspective. There would have been a time when I would have thought of this job as menial – boring, dreary, dull, mind-numbing – and would have insisted that we find a packaging plant to do the packaging for us. There’s a big plant in the area that could probably package our soups faster and cheaper. They wouldn’t be so pretty, though, and I don’t know if our soups would taste quite so heart-warming without the joy our packagers put into it.

I am now practicing with different recipes to expand our line (research and development, I believe this process is called). We want some year-round products, so I am experimenting with a couple of rice and beans recipes, a bean and pasta salad, a chickpea salad… As I develop a recipe I always make sure it is delicious, easy to prepare, and nutritionally dense. Now I’ll pay attention to how easy it is to package as well.

In the past when I’ve had to multi-task I’ve often gotten overwhelmed and distracted. I’ve decided this time around that Spirit must think I can handle a book release, clients, an increase in my radio show AND a growing soup business all at once or they wouldn’t have been given to me all at once. And it’s mighty spiritual practice, being able to stay in my heart and see the gift in it all. Those beautiful souls this morning gave me presence and gratitude, and gratitude is one of the surest ways for me to get clarity of the bigger picture. I realized today that absolutely everything I am doing right now is born out of living from my heart, a commitment to helping others in any way that is mine to do with a whole bunch of love. And how amazing it is when all that love comes right back to me. For that I am truly grateful.

There have been encouraging steps along the way. The soup business was born. A woman whom I met on the Hay House cruise offered me free coaching for the book I am writing in exchange for an endorsement. Her generosity allowed me to shift my writing tone from an academic one to a more personal, loving one. I started an internet radio show with a dear friend and student. All of these have been gentle introductions to a bigger world, to the vision I’ve held onto these past few years: a dream of our soup business being so successful locally that we could replicate it all over the country; a dream of a book and other sources that could gently guide others to love themselves and understand their own unique gifts; workshops and retreats that would allow us to share our gifts with the world.

While doing this work and holding onto this vision, I’ve spent a lot of time understanding abundance and prosperity from a spiritual perspective. It hasn’t been an easy lesson, especially when I’ve spent most of my life with the unconscious thoughts that to be poor is to be noble, and that I was unworthy of prosperity. Looking from where I am now back to all the worry and lack I lived in before, I understand that that wasn’t noble at all. And although it has taken a lot of mindfulness and positive, affirmative thinking to make this shift, I now know that being prosperous will allow me to do much good in the world. I am greatly looking forward to it!

Even though I have been working steadily towards my vision, the past couple weeks have been filled with so many miracles and so much wonderment around it that I feel that world is spinning around me like a top. A friend of a friend has generously given us much needed business advice, and may invest in our soup business once we get a little more organized. The writing coach invited me to write a chapter in her book, Extraordinary You, which will be distributed world-wide at the end of November. I’ve got another friend looking to book me into book signing events now. And at the beginning of this week we learned that the owner of I Am Healthy Radio wants to turn our radio show into e-books and have us host webinars. Of course, he will promote us, and produce us, and…. All we need to do is provide the content and bump up the number of shows to twice a month. When we were on a conference call to discuss it today, I asked him why he had chosen to help us so much. His reply? It’s a great show! More people need to be listening to it!

It’s amazing to be on this threshold of fruition of a vision that I dreamed about but never quite fully believed would materialize. And while I’m in a little whirlwind trying to understand how it’s all going to happen so quickly, I truly know that all is in Divine Order and Divine Time. My challenge is to keep myself centered in my heart and allow it all to come to me so I don’t get overwhelmed and frantic. So as I am navigating through these remarkable events, I truly appreciate your patience when my blog may not appear on Tuesday or Wednesday, or even not at all one week. Know that I am grateful to you and hold you in my heart, and I can’t wait to share all my adventures with you as my vision and dreams come true.

Her comment stopped me in my tracks. I hadn’t really seen it that way, but she was so right – the soups are my ideas, my recipes, my packaging. Thomas has been absolutely integral in seeing it to fruition, but the soups themselves are my vision. I worked hard to come up with just the right blend of seasonings and other ingredients to make them all extremely healthy and delicious. I worked hard to make them all incredibly easy to prepare. I worked hard to find the right packaging and the right population to package the soup for us. And like many other times in my life, when I’ve finished what I had planned to do I had just moved on.

After I finished my Ph.D. I never referred to myself as Dr. Zeki – it’s just recently that I’ve put those hard-earned initials after my name. I had a very successful massage practice that allowed me to support both my daughter and myself. I let that go completely when it was time to do something new. I’ve never really stopped and patted myself on the back and said, “Way to go! That’s a job well done!,’’ Or as my Dad used to say, “Atta Girl!” I think part of the reason why is because humility is an important spiritual practice to me. Tooting one’s horn too often and too loudly seems to be an uncomfortable combination of inflated ego and insecurity. And yet acknowledging your successes can help you to understand who you are, to love yourself more, and to discover your unique gifts to share with the world.

So I thought about the soups. I love seeing our soups on the shelves of gourmet groceries throughout Chicago. Who’d a thunk it? I love doing tastings when toddlers try our two-pea with carrots soup and then ask for more, much to the amazement of their mothers. I love when a twenty-something vegan incredulously asks, “Really?!? All I need to do is boil water and I get this???” And all of this success in less than a year. So I thought, yes, she’s right. I’m going to focus on the soup business so we can see just how successful we can make it. Employ hundreds of the developmentally disabled. Donate hundreds of soups. Provide thousands with an easily prepared, nutritionally dense and incredibly delicious product. Why wouldn’t I? So for the past couple weeks I’ve immersed myself in the soup business and entered the land of the green foodies.

We had Paul, our soup angel, over for dinner last week. He brought along Rachel, who has also been in the organic/local/sustainable food industry for many years and who now works with him. Thomas and I were pleased that they enjoyed the good home-made food we prepared, and we enjoyed their company and their stories. Paul is a self-described old hippie, whose past was peppered with being a professional musician, a founder of an organic co-op, and presently the product developer for his company; his sensitive palate could even pick out the seasonings in Thomas’ secret greens recipe. Rachel had been in real estate but had moved into the local and sustainable food industry many years earlier. Both were incredibly passionate and committed to the production and promotion of organic local, sustainable food and social responsibility on every level. We had a wonderful evening, and I felt blessed to have met them both.

On Saturday we did a tasting at a nearby deli/grocery whose owner was also fully committed to sustainable food and living. The owner of a local hot sauce company was giving tastings next to us. His products were delicious, and during the afternoon he told us his story – he was the founder of a not-for-profit in a rough part of Chicago that taught neighborhood kids art and green living (www.coop.com). The kids were part of the production from beginning to end, and half of his profits went back into the not-for-profit. Amazing!

These are just three members of the green foodie community I’ve been absolutely delighted to get to meet these past few weeks. Without exception they have all been incredibly dedicated to making the world a better place, one healthy, tasty bite at a time. Definitely my kind of folks! And they are just the inspiration I need to make my vision come true.

When I finally found that peace and self-love, I decided to try dating again. I spent about six months trying internet dating, meeting frogs that I didn’t even want to kiss. I decided to take a break from it all when Thomas sent me a long message. He said he’d looked at my profile and kept on going back to it. He was astounded how we had so much in common. He decided that he needed to contact me. Would I be interested in dinner on Saturday?

Now anyone who has internet dated knows that that isn’t proper protocol. First you email, then you talk on the phone, then you have coffee or lunch, then you work up to the weekend. But I liked his honesty and I was going to take a break anyway, so why not? Of course, it was the best date ever – we liked the same food, shared the same beliefs, and laughed and laughed and laughed. I felt like a princess.

As I’ve come to know and appreciate this soul-mate of mine my respect and admiration for him has deepened. No matter what curveball life throws him – and there have been many in the past few years – he handles them with strength, humor, and grace. Every day he wakes up with a smile on his face and love in his heart, and a quiet knowing that through it all God is present with him.

Thomas’ gentle spirit and caring is a magnet to all. Animals come up to him, babies smile and reach out to him, children invite him to play. When we go to networking events it’s just a matter of minutes before he has a crowd around him. It’s even more amazing because he isn’t loud or especially gregarious – he just has a real interest in everyone’s story, and he likes to connect and help those that he can. When I go over to join him, he enthusiastically remembers every one’s name and business and at least one little interesting thing he’s gleamed from their conversation. And he does this with everyone, not just in a business setting.

He is absolutely the epitome of unconditional love. He doesn’t give me advice or suggestions unless I ask him. His daughter is thirteen, the time when many fathers scratch their head and wonder where their little girls went, and then slowly withdraw from the odd, hormonally charged creatures those little girls have become. Although Thomas’ bewilderment is palpable at times (much to my amusement, I might add) he hangs in there, and makes sure to talk to his beloved daughter every night. It does my heart good to hear him coo and add comment to all her drama. He loves my daughter, too, and she talks to him with an ease I rarely see. I’ve learned a lot watching him listen, hold his tongue, and speak softly. He truly approaches all from a place of peace and love.

He reminds me of my father in several ways. He knows a whole lot about esoteric things, and if I am stumped he more often than not can answer my question. He gets amused easily. He will find a commercial on TV so funny he’ll laugh at it, to the point of tears, every time it comes on. His sense of humor is best described as corny. He reminds me of a ten year old when he retells a joke – he himself laughs so hard that you can barely understand what he is saying. When he sees me bogged down in seriousness or worry he easily brings a smile to my face and lets me know that all is truly well.

And I know that all is truly well. How could it not be, with the love and support of this amazing man? He shows me every day in many ways how deeply I am loved and cared for. And he shows this to all who are blessed to know him. Every time he takes my hand or gives me a kiss or just smiles at me with his eyes shining bright with love, I give thanks for the incredible gift that is Thomas. Happy Birthday, TJ. I absolutely ladorish you!

While Jasmine has always had wisdom and maturity well beyond her years, I noticed this shift into grown-up when she arrived back from her internship at Baylor College of medicine in Houston this summer. It wasn’t immediately apparent when I met her at the baggage claim –she was her usual travelling self – way too over-packed, pushing the boundaries of carry-ons and weight limits alike, me wondering how she managed to carry just her backpack – I could barely lift it – let alone everything else.

As usual, she was wearing an outfit composed of whatever clothing was clean and whatever would not fit in her luggage: a lovely beige tunic she had gotten at an outlet mall, a pair of blue jean shorts that showed most of her dancer’s legs, and the brown cowboy boots she had bought in Houston. And in her hand was a water bottle with a red beta fish we had bought when she first arrived in Texas. She had called the airline and argued with Security to be sure she could bring it home.

When I complained and asked her how she managed it all, she said she had no problem getting help with her luggage on the plane. I stood up and looked at her again. Of course she had lots of help. She was all grown up and drop dead gorgeous. While my heart tugged a little, I mostly smiled. She has never had a problem taking care of herself.

She has expressed her grown-upness in subtle ways. She has been making her own decisions, resolving her own problems, expressing gratitude for any and all help she receives. While she has always had confidence in who she is, she is now able to not only know it but live it. When she didn’t hear about her work-study, she immediately got on the phone and demanded an answer. She said she had worked too hard last year to not get her position this year. She didn’t even ask me to intervene, and completely handled the situation herself. Maturity.

And the unbelievable wisdom, the knowing of herself and what is hers to do. So much of her seems dichotomous. She plunges in head first with new opportunities and friendships and still gets horrendously homesick. When I was her age I rarely returned home, and had lost touch with most of my high school friends. Jasmine comes home whenever she can, and while she is extremely supportive of those friends who have moved away from Chicago, a large part of her wants her group to be exactly the same. And if a boyfriend doesn’t treat her the way she expects to be treated she gives him about three strikes and then he is out. She knows she has too much on her plate to have a lot of emotional drama. Yet when a girlfriend is in the thick of young adult drama, Jasmine is completely there with guidance and support. She believes that this is what friends do.

Jasmine absolutely adores all animals, and has to have at least one around her at all times (hence the red beta fish this summer). When she was in high school, we got another cat a week after we said our final goodbyes to her life-long companion. She had a bunny smuggled in her dorm room for two years, and a fish tank the year before. She works in the Marine lab at school, and the house she lives in now has five young women, two dogs, her bunny and her fish, and possibly a cat. She takes allergy medicine at least once a day as a result.

She spent the summer performing brain surgery on mice and studying their visual processing. She called each one “little man,” and covered them with a gauze pad blanket so they wouldn’t get too cold. Sometimes the surgery wasn’t successful, and at other times the mice were done with the experiment, and they needed to be euthanized. This was devastatingly difficult for Jasmine to do, and she thanked them for their contribution and blessed each one before she euthanized them. She could do this work because of her appreciation for all the new and amazing results the study is showing about brain functioning, and her love of science. She wants to be a neurosurgeon. Really.

And as I think of her today, I know she will be a successful one. A lot of her gifts aren’t mine. She has incredible patience and fine motor skills – she cross stitches for relaxation, which I find difficult and frustrating beyond words. She is extremely confident and has no problem speaking her mind to anyone –something I still struggle with at times. Yet her passion and compassion and love for just about everyone and everything is something we both share. I am so very proud of my grown up girl, and every minute of every day I feel incredibly blessed to be her mother. Happy Birthday, Jasmine, and here’s looking to the exciting years ahead.

Maybe it was because I’ve been working so much lately and my awareness is so heightened, or maybe because she just needed her Momma so badly and/or I needed to mother her so badly. Whatever it was, our energy together felt strong and fabulous. It’s funny that when she is away at school we actually do more talking, checking in and chit-chatting. When we are physically together, there is a familiar comfort that is beyond the need for words. She rests in the safety of home. I rest in the gratitude and awe and unbelievably deep love that we share.

She was able to stay until yesterday. She boarded the plane without knowing her results, and she clearly didn’t want to go back to school until she knew. I put up a brave face, but I could feel her anxiety and fear. She had a rough night last night, as did I. I felt out of sorts all day until I heard from her with the results; she is basically well, just a little irregularity that needs to be checked in three months. But good news, and we both felt a weight lifted. When I called my mother to share the news, she asked me if I had been worrying. She knows that I have worked hard at removing that nasty habit from my system. Worry is a dark wet cloud that obscures the light of Spirit, and I have let go of a lot of it.

Thinking about if I had worried or not, I can honestly say no. I know that all is in Divine Order and Divine Time. It is more about the connection, of feeling her concern, her pain, her exhaustion, in myself. It’s being empathic. People who are empathic strongly feel what others are going through, and it is a very mixed blessing. It’s wonderful to feel someone’s joy. It’s much more difficult to feel someone’s pain.

A natural reaction is to try to fix things. As a parent or a spouse or a friend or a healer I want everyone to feel good all the time, and I want to have that happen in any way I can. Spiritual practice is discerning what is mine to do, and more often than not it’s about holding a loving space in my heart and providing support when asked. It’s allowing others to learn their lessons on their own instead of the way I think they should.

Most of the time I am able to do this, though heaven knows it is hard when the Momma Bear inside me is roused from her slumber. The reward of this space holding, this loving detachment, is that I have a strong, independent daughter who is pretty good at taking care of herself. And an honest, extremely loving and supportive relationship with Thomas that allows me to learn that sometimes the way he does things makes more sense than the way I would do them.

With my work I can allow healing words and energy to flow through me, without taking in or judging the sometimes unbelievable experiences my clients have gone through. This allows me to stay focused in my work, which allows my clients to release more easily, and to love themselves more.

Being empathic is often challenging – it’s constantly checking in with your body and heart to understand the feelings that are constantly in your energy sphere, and discerning whether these feelings are yours or not. Then comes gentle and loving detachment from those feelings that are not yours to carry. And while this seems to be an unending process, the upside of being empathic is a fuller, richer more spiritual life and a much more loving heart. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

My blog last week was fussing over the glitches in my trip to Florida and the lessons learned from the experience. On Wednesday morning, a favorite client came in and handed me a crisp $100 bill. I looked at her in confusion – I have her credit card on file, and I am sure her visits with me have garnered her enough points to take a nice vacation. She said, “This is for your speeding ticket. This is one thing I can do for you.” I was getting ready to say “Oh, that’s not necessary” when I stopped myself. One spiritual practice I have been working on is receiving, so I smiled and said “Thank you.” I was grateful for my wonderful client, her love and thoughtfulness, and the money itself. I felt truly blessed. A miracle, all of it.

And then yesterday, another miracle. I was with another dear client (actually, every single one of my clients is dear to me), a Catholic nun who I have been seeing for many years, and whom I hadn’t seen all summer. We spent a good ten minutes catching up, and I told her all the highs and lows of my summer. I told her that my daughter, Jasmine, was having a medical procedure done during our appointment, and unfortunately, she had to go by herself. I asked if it would be okay if I took her call when she had finished. My client said, “of course!”

When Jasmine called she was definitely upset – the procedure had not gone as well as she wanted it to. My heart ached and yearned to be with her, and I knew she felt the same. I asked her if she wanted me to come down to Florida and be with her this weekend or if she wanted to come home. I told her that we would find a way and that I would call her after my appointment. My client was concerned, so I shared the news. She expressed sympathy and said she would add Jasmine to her prayer circle, and I said thank you. It can’t hurt to have a group of nuns praying for you, I thought.

When we were finished, my nun gave me two checks. Again I looked puzzled. The first one was for our session. The second one was for $500. She told me that she wanted me to have a good weekend with Jasmine without any financial concern. She said that in the summer she usually sends any leftover money to the Mother House, but this year she didn’t. She hadn’t known why, and now she did. She told me to buy a ticket. I thanked her and burst into tears, tears of love and gratitude and just plain old restored faith. I bought Jasmine’s ticket home last night, and can’t wait to give her all the loving care I can when she is home on Friday.

When I was talking about a blog topic today with Jasmine she suggested I write about miracles, recalling how many we have been blessed with. Our soup business, with our getting into a chain of local stores right away, a soup angel who provides us with priceless knowledge and connections, and the way it is lovingly received in the stores where it is carried. My invitation to contribute to a book being released in Australia this November. Jasmine’s internship at Baylor this summer, which came to her during an extremely challenging time for her academically. The whole experience reassured her that being a neurosurgeon was hers to do, and the whole research team not only invited her to return, but volunteered to write letters of recommendation to medical school, too.

And these miracles I received this week, after I truly realized that while I greatly enjoy my individual appointments, my calling right now is to finish my book. The editor of the book in Australia sent a note saying that my chapter was her favorite of all. The contributing editor is doing a lot of publicity and marketing to ensure the book’s success upon its release in November, and she has garnered a lot of support. It would be fabulous to be able to promote my own upcoming book during that book’s launch.

But I had been thinking how this just wasn’t possible now, I’ve been busy (gratefully so) and we definitely need any and all money I can make right now. Reflecting on the miracles we’ve received, they’ve all happened when we were working in love, acting on any inspired or creative opportunities that came our way, and were open to the gifts of the Universe. How blessed we’ve been to be in this place of grace and able to allow the miracles to come in…

I think I will stop here. I have a book to finish.

Last week Jasmine and I drove back to her school in Florida. We usually make it a two-day trip with us taking turns driving. Jasmine’s father had graciously rented a car for us on Monday evening to be returned Wednesday evening. We started out Tuesday morning and had smooth sailing through Indiana. Kentucky was bottlenecked twice – once due to a stalled truck and once due to construction –reducing traffic both times to one lane. This put us into Nashville during rush hour and Chattanooga at about 9:30 pm. We were both tired, but decided to continue on to south of Atlanta. There were back-ups on the other side of Chattanooga as well, so it was well after midnight before we stopped for the night.

The next morning we got up early, wanting to make it to Sarasota by mid-afternoon. We got on the highway and came to a grinding halt. The highway was closed due to an accident, and all three lanes were being directed to an exit and a detour. I got a very strong message that the road would open back up again soon, so while we were waiting I prayed for the victims of the accident, and remained calm. The highway did open back up — when we were already on the exit ramp of the detour. It took us an hour and a half to go nine miles.

When we got back on the road, my mind raced, trying to figure out how fast I could safely go in the tiny rental car with a fully filled trunk and tons of stuff (including a bunny and a fish) loaded to the top of the windows in the back seat. It took a lot to just get the car up to the top of a hill… the poor thing chugged the entire way up.

I glanced in the rearview mirror and suddenly there was a police car with lights flashing right on my tail. I pulled over to let him pass by, and he pulled over, too. How could he possibly mean me? I barely made it to the top of the hill! Well, he must have been at the bottom, because he said I was going twenty miles over the speed limit! There wasn’t any cruise control on the car, and the heaviness of the car surely could have pushed it that fast…

I grumbled and complained and moaned about Mercury being in retrograde – I ALWAYS have trouble with travel during that time! Jasmine looked over at me and told me to calm down. The police officer was polite. We were fine. Stuff happens (my word, not hers, exactly). Let it go. She yawned, buried her head back in her pillow and promptly fell back to sleep.

Stuff happens, Mercury being in retrograde or not, and in any case, it wasn’t an excuse to not be mindful or present. So I took a deep breath or two, slowed down, and actually looked at the scenery around us. The green pine trees, the red soil, the blue sky. Beautiful. A little down the road a herd of blonde longhorn cattle drank from a pond. There were acres of peanut plants and peach trees, two of the gifts Georgia offers the rest of the country. I was stunned to realize that during my many previous trips I hadn’t really noticed any of this before.

How much easier it is to stay in spiritual practice when my world is running smoothly. I knew that I would face more challenges once we arrived in Florida so I vowed to stay in the spiritual present at all times. The challenges started upon our arrival – the house she was renting with some friends hadn’t been cleaned and was utterly uninhabitable. And while her tuition is due September 2nd, her financial aid package won’t be complete until September 9th… and so on.

So in all my dealings with landlords and educational bureaucracy, I started from a place of compassion and presence. I listened carefully. I was very polite, yet quietly persistent. And eventually, a satisfactory agreement was reached by all, after an entire afternoon on campus on Thursday and a total of two hours of communication with the landlord. I was exhausted, but was pleased with my ability to stay (mostly) in my spiritual heart. When I wasn’t able to, I practiced my spiritual practice of forgiveness.

This time around I am looking at this period of Mercury in retrograde as a teaching time instead of a period of frustration. It’s a great time to slow down and practice spiritual awareness. And who knows? Maybe the next time I’m travelling when Mercury is retrograde I can save myself a hundred dollars or so by not getting a speeding ticket!

After about six months of meditation practice I came to know the peace and joy of connecting to the spiritual within, and as time went on I looked for other ways to keep this connection throughout the day. One way that resonated almost immediately was going for a walk in nature, either by the lake or in the park by my home. Being attentive to the changes in the temperatures and the seasons was a perfect way to practice awareness, gratitude and mindfulness, all important parts to any spiritual practice. Later came the idea that if I could visualize myself in a beautiful place or feel the love in my heart I could more easily connect to Spirit within, even if I wasn’t walking or contorting my body.

As my soul yearned to know this connection always, I picked up the idea of a heart word – a spiritual concept I keep with me constantly and consciously throughout the day to help me stay in this space of peace, beauty and love. And most days, most times, I am there. Today I hold the word celebrate in my heart. I have celebrated the picture-perfect summer day, the pleasure of kissing my daughter good morning, the happiness of helping my amazing clients, the loving peace of my husband reaching out to hold my hand. I have realized that for me, spiritual practice has become a joyful, loving experience.

When I mention spiritual practice to friends and clients, I am often met with a groan. They say they can’t sit still to meditate, they barely have time to get everything that needs to be done finished. And so I explain that spiritual practice is simply something that takes them away from all the needs to be done and puts them in that place of peace and joy, so they can be refreshed, re-centered, reconnected.

I’ve seen this in my daughter as she does her counted cross stitch. My husband when he leans back in the chair next to the stereo and listens to some favorite music. And surprisingly and blessedly, I’ve seen this when my best friend is creating her jewelry. Life has been difficult for her the past several years, with extreme challenges in every part of her life – her health, her job, her marriage. And while she handled it all with grace and dignity, it has certainly taken its toll. Her light had dimmed a bit, and she was missing her joy.

She spent a month with us this summer, taking as many jewelry classes as she could, so busy we barely saw her. When she wasn’t in class, she was practicing what she learned, with intensity, intention, and total devotion. And amazingly enough, this practice rekindled her light, her joy, her faith in both man and God. It was a glorious thing to watch. And incredibly spiritual.

So now instead of suggesting a daily spiritual practice, I ask my clients what they would do if they were given an extra half hour each day. While a couple invariably say “Sleep,” others say “Cook! Write! Play the Piano!” And I reply, “Well, give yourself that half hour and call it your spiritual practice.” And more often than not, they do. As they rekindle their light of joy and peace and love, their souls will sometimes yearn for more. And when and if they do, I will suggest some guided visualizations or a heartword, or even a serious meditation practice. But if their souls are content with the joy and peace and love found in that extra half-hour they have given themselves, then so be it. Because in truth, joy and peace and love is the very definition of Spirit.

One of my favorite lessons to teach ESL students was the art of connotation, the idea that words that have the same basic meaning can have either a neutral, positive, or negative feeling that powers it. It was always fun to see those students who had their noses buried in pocket bilingual dictionaries realize that those books just weren’t precise enough. I remember a student finally understanding why his advisor had asked him what was wrong when he said he was anxious about their meeting. He had meant to say excited.

I used to swear like a sailor, out of habit and a certain cool factor, I think. Many years ago when my little baby girl picked up the f-word from listening to me say it emphatically and often when I was driving, I tried to do damage control and convince her to say “truck” instead. Of course, she held on to the f-word and started to call all trucks that. I had to bear about six months of my little angel saying –“Look Mommy! A big f—! Look at that red f—!” It wasn’t pretty, and that should have been reason enough to stop cursing, but it wasn’t.

When I started my shift in becoming a healer, my cursing just naturally curtailed, and now it has just about stopped completely. I don’t like the taste or sound of those words in my mouth, nor the feelings they produce in my body. Rev. Russ reminded me of some other four – letter words that I’ve been working out of my system as well – fear, can’t, lack, and hate. None of those words serve me anymore.

In fact, I am consciously working all negative words out of my system, because I believe so strongly in the power of words to shape our thoughts and feelings. I believe if we don’t allow those words in our heads or out of our mouths they will lose their strength and ability to limit us.

So illness and difficulty and anything else that throws us a curveball is a challenge to be met instead of a crushing blow that crumples us. If a friend or client has an extraordinary experience, it’s synchronicity, and remarkable and wonderful instead of unbelievable. Or it can be unusual instead of freaky. With these positive words I can encourage all to welcome the beauty of miracles graciously instead of trying to figure them out or discount them.

Removing negative words has had a positive effect on other parts of my spiritual practice. It’s hard to judge people when you can’t say anything bad about them. I just end up embracing and honoring them instead. When negative words no longer resonate you can see that sarcasm and satire are fundamentally just plain mean. And the political daggers people throw back and forth have very little power or meaning or even sense.

Instead of saying “Isn’t it awful that….?,” about some world event that’s beyond my control and makes me feel hopeless or saddened, I am mindfully compassionate and prayerful, and take any further action that is mine to do.

Without words like limit and fear and recession I can see all kinds of possibilities for me, my family, my friends and the rest of the planet. I spend a little extra time looking for and focusing on all the wonderful things that are happening in the world, and not just on the one-minute reports of all the doom and gloom and destruction that the daily news feels like we need to know. I would much rather know about the anonymous donor who funds a gym for low-income and homeless women in Boston, or how Warren Buffett just donated 1.5 million dollars as part of the plan he started in 2006 to give away 99% of his earnings, or about the Israeli man and his volunteers who shuttle West Bank Palestinians to medical treatments such as dialysis every day.

This kind of news not only gives me hope, but also reminds me that each and every one of us is able to have a positive effect in the world purely by focusing on the positive. When I read or hear of a good thing someone else is doing, I naturally want to help and/or contribute in any way I can. And I believe most of us feel this way, too. This is the power of words. However, there is one four letter word that I am never going to give up. Which one is that? L-O-V-E, of course!

During energy sessions, my clients almost always see colors, in many different hues. Some see a healing green, while others see the soft pink of love. Some may see a creative explosion of orange and red, while others see the sunny yellow of self – understanding. For some the clear blue of truth may appear, while others will see an intuitive shade of violet or purple. If we have had an extremely effective session, a blessing of white golden light of pure Spirit will come.

In truth, clairvoyance is not my strongest gift. Since I often feel a color more than I see it, I usually ask my clients for confirmation. I love to hear their descriptions – “Oooh, I see a glowing ribbon of the most amazing emerald green!” or “There’s fireworks of purple and gold and pink!” Then I help them send the healing energy of the colors throughout their entire being. It’s a lovely and loving finish to our time together.

I’ve been contemplating my wardrobe, with its blacks and browns and blues and whites and occasional shots of color here and there. I’ve been thinking I really do need to have a blouse or dress of all the colors I work with, to wear when I need a boost of its healing property or even if my client does. So I picked up a pink shirt and an orange one, too. And I like the way I feel when I wear them.

Today I had a new client, a young woman breathtakingly beautiful on the inside and out. After our session, she was clearly touched by the lovely green she experienced. She explained that she is starting a new business whose products utilize the healing properties of colors. She asked me if I would be interested in working with her as a consultant. Would I? Of course!

I had dinner with Nicole tonight, and we eagerly chatted, catching up on each others’ news. We talked about how Mary Morrissey, Napoleon Hill, and other inspirational speakers and authors insist that you declare exactly what you want and outline exactly how you are going to get it. According to all these folk, this leads to the manifestation of your dreams. Because so many amazing things are happening to me right now, she encouraged me to take the time and write down my desires and plans.

As we were talking, I realized that this kind of idea is based on thinking that life is a journey or a path, that steps A and B must be completed before C can happen. Life has never been a straight line for me — I’ve zigzagged from A to J and back to E and then on to Y, and at times little of it has made sense.

But as we talked further, I realized that as I have learned to accept and love myself fully, more and more incredible opportunities have come to me. As I have understood more about the truth of who I am, and have lived this truth with trust and compassion, I have expanded out into a world that I never thought could possibly exist. I host a successful internet radio show with a bright shining light of a woman, with beautiful music and production created just for us. I have written a chapter for a book that is being published in Australia in November. And I have been invited to be part of a business that embraces the healing qualities of beauty and joy. And all of the people involved with all of these projects share my desire to bring love and peace and light and laughter to the world. And every single one of these opportunities are way beyond anything I could have dreamed up in my wildest imagination.

So I don’t think I will be setting goals and naming numbers and planning plans. Instead, I will continue to bring as much love and light and laughter and peace as I possibly can to the world. And be ever grateful and ever open to the astoundingly colorful opportunities God provides me with to do just that. I think I will wear my new white shirt with the sparkly gold sequins tomorrow.

the Dalai Lama in Chicago

I was pleased that we got the Shinto Torii, which is the gate at the entrance of a Japanese temple that encourages you to leave the mundane of the earthly world and enter a place more divine. When I lived in Taiwan I visited Japan and loved the Shinto Temples. They were entirely different from the outrageously colorful and noisy temples in Taiwan; the Shinto temples were lovely, calming oases worlds away from the hustle and bustle of city life.

While we were decorating the Torii, I held in my heart the feelings of deep peace of the Shinto Temples I had visited. The group of about 10 volunteers had decided on a nature theme, and the six Sunday afternoons we spent working on it were gentle and relaxing. We painted the Torii vermilion red with a warm gold circle in the middle. The legs became tree trunks with roots that belonged to flowering vines. We made colorful flowers and attached them to the vines, and attached a nest to the top of the Torii. In the nest were eggs filled with affirmations from the congregation and a bluebird of happiness. The crowning touch was a white dove flying over the top of the Torii. We were all pleased with the result.

When we were seated in the audience on Sunday we were delighted to see the Torii with the symbols of the other faiths on stage. While each was decorated differently, on stage the whole effect was beautifully harmonious. We were treated to a song by a Tibetan children’s choir before the Dalai Lama himself came onstage. The energy of the crowd of about seven thousand was electric with anticipation; we knew that this could very well be the last opportunity we would have to see this living legend.

When the Dalai Lama came on stage the entire stadium was blanketed with an amazing, loving energy. He was led to a comfortable armchair, but decided to stand for awhile so that he could see all of us and all of us could see him.

To be honest, when he spoke, people outside of the most expensive seats had trouble understanding him. We were in a stadium, not a lecture hall, and his words reverberated around the walls until they were unintelligible, and most of were unfamiliar with his Tibetan accent. I was able to understand a few pearls of wisdom, and held onto a few golden nuggets here and there. On the jumbotron above him we could see his impish smile and we heard his hearty laugh. And while his words were profound, and just the day before he had met with the President of the United States, it was easy to see he was a happy, humble man, a man of deep peace.

One of the nuggets I took away was one of his explanations of human nature. He explained how he had been working with neuroscientists and neurobiologists and how they had shown him how anger, stress, anxiety, jealousy and other similar emotions caused the body harm. Therefore, he reasoned, gentleness, kindness, compassion and happiness were the natural states of humanity. The very essence of man is patient, loving, and good.

I had never heard one of my core beliefs stated so simply, logically, and understandably. Peace and love and happiness didn’t have to be things to work towards. Maybe we just needed to take a deep breath and allow our natural state to return.

I thought of how much of life is spent in confrontation and compromise and other such commotions. What if instead of gearing up to argue and fight, we approached every encounter from a belief that it is natural for everyone of us to be compassionate and loving and gentle with each other, and our desire was to have all participants be in that place?

Instead of telling our spouse or child or colleague what he or she should do, what if we said, ”I want you to be happy, and I want me to be happy too. What steps can we take together to make this happen?”

One of my very favorite Dalai Lama quotes is one that explains how he lives his day:

Every day, think as you wake up, today I am fortunate to be alive,
I have a precious human life, I am not going to waste it. I am going to
use all my energies to develop myself, to expand my heart out to others;
to achieve enlightenment for the benefit of all beings. I am going to have
kind thoughts towards others, I am not going to get angry or think badly
about others. I am going to benefit others as much as I can.

What a profoundly peaceful and compassionate place the world would be if each and every one of us affirmed those ideas upon awakening. The Dalai Lama is the living proof of this powerful loving, beautiful, and gentle possibility.

A lot of us are raised with the idea that good things happen to good people and bad things happen to bad people. I remember that when Jasmine was in preschool, she was ordered to share and treat others fairly, not because she wanted to or because it was the right thing to do, but because if we want people to share and be fair to us, we have to share and be fair to them.

Before that indoctrination Jasmine shared freely – if a toy or a treat made her happy, she’d eagerly share with joy from her heart. However, if she was having a difficult time and needed the comfort that the toy or treat brought her, she didn’t share so easily. Forced sharing leads to expectations of reciprocation. And the truth of the matter is that good people and good actions don’t always get rewarded. Bad things happen to good people, and good things happen to bad people.

Expectations of reciprocation leads to a lot of guilt and frustration. We want a reason why, we want to know, to have it all figured out. We so want to believe that if we do everything we are supposed to do then everything will be peachy, the way things are supposed to be. And when things don’t turn out the way we expect them too, we blame ourselves and feel guilty.

The Universe doesn’t follow human ideas of fairness and goodness and evil. The Universe just is. There are thousands of people on the planet who drink lots of alcohol daily, eat tons of red meat and fried food, who sleep just a few hours a day and are ornery to their fellow man and never get cancer or heart disease. And I’m sure you’ve heard stories of people who have done absolutely everything they are supposed to do and drop dead from a heart attack at forty.

Julia Child ate butter and cream like they had the health properties of vegetables. She smoked, she drank (a lot), and was not shy in sharing her opinions. She died at 92.

People who are loving and giving are killed in train wrecks and car accidents and tornados and tsunamis. And when we try to view this from the perspective of fairness, when we try to understand it in our brains, we just can’t. Because much of life isn’t fair and makes absolutely no sense.

When we let go of fairness in our head we can act upon the truth in our hearts. My friend learned a lot about herself with her first health challenge. She learned how to release the anger and frustration that she used to bottle up inside. She learned to stop taking everything personally. She learned to appreciate her strengths –she’s a great teacher who helps her students understand a very complicated topic; she’s a loyal and non-judgmental friend; she’s got a kind and loving connection to all of God’s creatures and all of nature. She learned that to really live a balanced life she needs to do things that bring her joy. She’s taking jewelry classes. She’s going to try a hula hoop class as well. She is calmer and more at peace with herself than at any other time in her life.

Letting go of the idea of punishment has allowed her to let go of the angst around her present health challenge. She can listen to the doctors with discernment, and trust herself to make the best decision for her. She can appreciate the love and support she has around her. She can know herself as a whole and beautiful soul instead of defining herself as less than because of her health.

I am so grateful that she has joined me in this place of peace and love. We are having a gentle and wonderful time together.

Like many others, Thomas lost his job a couple years ago, and with it his insurance coverage. With our very small business, our combined insurance costs for any decent coverage would be about $1500 a month, which was way beyond our budget. We vowed to take extra good care of ourselves and hope for the best.

While we’ve been blessed and have enjoyed overall good health, Thomas has suffered from a condition that is common for men as they get older, and it needed to be addressed. He found help at a clinic at St. Francis Hospital, part of Resurrection Health Care, and when his doctor said he needed surgery, we were surprised and pleased the doctor was able to arrange it.

However, we still weren’t thrilled to be in the hospital at 7:00 am yesterday after a restless night, trying to find our way to the surgical floor. We were scurrying along when we turned a corner and there before us was a breathtaking sculpture of St. Francis of Assisi, surrounded by flowering plants and bathed in light. I immediately calmed down, recalling one of my favorite St. Francis writings, a quote I return to often:

Where there is charity and wisdom, there is neither fear nor ignorance.
Where there is patience and humility, there is neither anger nor vexation.
Where there is peace and meditation, there is neither anxiety nor doubt.

After Thomas was taken to surgery, I went to the cafeteria to get breakfast and happened upon a chapel and prayer room; I peeked in both, and continued on my way.

Thomas’ surgery was extremely successful, and we both were delighted at the friendliness of all the staff and the quality of care he received. When he was back in his room and resting, I returned to the prayer room. I meditated, and my Catholic childhood came into my mind for the first time in many, many years.

I recalled my first communion, how I wore a beautiful white dress my mother had made, with a Bible she had covered in matching material. I loved the majesty and holiness of that day. I remembered my grandmother’s devotion to her faith and how it comforted her, and how I still kept her rosary tucked inside my jewelry box.

I became disillusioned with the church when I was about thirteen. I just couldn’t believe that I needed an intermediary to talk to God so that my sins could be forgiven, that anyone who wasn’t Catholic was going to hell. Catechism classes seemed to focus on our inherent evil and a lot of guilt. As a young woman, I felt there was a lot of hypocrisy in the church. I left and never looked back. I explored Buddhism, studied Islam, Confucianism, even Rastafarianism. I returned to Christianity when I found Unity, a church that truly honors all paths to God, but I hadn’t felt the need to revisit Catholicism at all.

As I meditated, I thought how I had several Catholic nuns for clients, and how they were all beautiful souls, thoughtful, independent women whom I felt honored to know. About a year ago I found St. Therese of Liseaux as an inspiration and Spirit Guide, and I’ve always felt an infinity with St. Francis. It was through the love, devotion, and generosity of the Catholic community that my dearest Thomas was able have his surgery and be on the road to recovery.

I got up and walked over to the chapel and sat in front of the alter. I looked at the cross on the wall behind it and deeply inhaled the fragrance of the lilies in vases on its surface. I pulled out the rose petal rosary I got at St. Therese’s shrine and always carry with me, along with one of her blessings:

May today there be peace within.
May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.
May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.
May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love
that has been given to you.
May you be content knowing you are a child of God.
Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul
the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love.
It is there for each and every one of us.

I silently recited an “Our Father” and a “Hail Mary,” and felt embraced by Grace. Acknowledging the beauty and sanctity of Catholicism and the roll it has played in my own spiritual understanding reopened a little door to my heart that had been closed. I felt my own small resurrection, the acknowledgement that at its very core, every religion is about love and service to humanity. And with that, I truly felt the Oneness of All and my soul soared. I feel so absolutely and truly blessed that both Thomas and I had profound healings at St. Francis Hospital yesterday.

When I think of my Dad, the greatest gift he gave to me is the gift of wonder: The wonder of nature, the wonder of music, the wonder of learning, the wonder of love.

His gift of wonder gave me an appreciation of the beauty of nature. He knew the name and habits of every plant, flower, bird, and animal he saw, and was thrilled when they appeared within his sight. Like him, I can take a walk outside and marvel at a gorgeous hibiscus or a burrowing owl. This gift soothes my soul and encourages me to practice presence; going for a walk outside, paying attention to all of God’s gifts, is a meditative experience to me, thanks to my father’s gift of wonder.

His gift of wonder gave me an appreciation of music, the passion that gave him pleasure from the beginning of his life to the end, and one that he shared with thousands. On Saturday when we took him to dialysis, even though he was so very weak, we put on a classical CD and he conducted and played the flute and violin in the air. We all smiled and enjoyed this moment, joining in with our own air instruments. This gift of wonder has allowed me to enjoy all music, from Mozart to Motown, and everything in between.

His gift of wonder gave me a life-long appreciation of learning, not only of formal education, but of the wonders of the world. Like him, I studied as far as formal education could go, and I also became a student of the world. He always had National Geographic and The Smithsonian magazines around, and as a child I poured over them. I’ve traveled a lot and made good friends from many cultures.
I not only live with a world-view, but with an explorative and active mind, thanks to his gift of wonder.

His gift of wonder gave me the gift of love. He loved his family passionately. When he came to Chicago to watch Jasmine dance the title role in Mary Poppins, tears of joy and love streamed down his face so much I’m sure it was like watching it through a thunderstorm. His love extended beyond his family to all of our friends. Nothing gave him greater pleasure then to have young folk in his home. When I was in college I knew I could always bring stranded friends home for a holiday. My daughter, Jasmine, brought her friends down to grandma’s and grandpa’s for Easter a month ago, and he loved every single minute of it. His gift of the power and wonder of love shapes my business, my life, my faith, the very soul of who I am.

Thank you, Dad, for the amazing gift of wonder. And happy explorations in the wondrous world beyond this one.

Over the course of the weekend we met all kinds of people. I saw several people we had met at the Autism One conference a few weeks prior. I saw three friends that I haven’t been in touch with for a while. And I also got to meet a whole range of new folks, all with a different story to tell. I had planned on charging for energy sessions, and selling some soup and crystals along with promoting our radio show. While we did end up selling soup and crystals and promoting our radio show, the few people I felt compelled to help I did so for free. They were all clearly gifted, passionate thinkers.

The first was a fairly recent medical school grad who quickly became disillusioned with traditional medicine and was absolutely passionate about helping people through nutrition. He had found a supplement company that he truly believed in and was having a lot of success selling its products in his practice. He wanted to devote more of his time to that, but was working at a couple of clinics to pay his student loans. He was trapped in a world of either/or, and I helped him to reach down into his heart to see the freeing possibilities of “and.”

I also helped an older gentlemen who reminded me a lot of my father. He was gentle and kind, with piercing eyes, but more than a little hard on himself, telling me of his loneliness, of all the stupid mistakes he had made in his life, especially his divorce thirty years ago. Going into his heart he found forgiveness and the blessing that he is. As he was leaving I said, “You know, there are plenty of women your age who would welcome the opportunity to spend time with a handsome gentleman like you.” He smiled and replied with a twinkle in his eye, “I know!”

On Sunday afternoon I met an extremely spiritual young man, stuck in trying to figure out the quagmire of duality. He was clearly strong and honorable, a former combat vet. In his heart we found a wise, gentle warrior, ready to change the world through the power of love and peace. When he was able to let go of trying to understand all that he had read, and just hold on to what rang true in his heart, he felt ready to move forward with his own unique contribution to the world.

I was so grateful to be able to help these three and the others that I met. The release of the burdens in their minds and the understanding of the truth in their hearts led them all to beautiful glowing smiles and a renewed sense of purpose.

Encouraged by my individual sessions, I happily gave my talk. While at the very beginning only two women showed up, within the first few minutes I had an almost packed house. I easily shared my story and message, and the audience was with me all the way through, taking notes and attentively listening to my words. When I finished they all applauded, and many came up to ask for more information and to just talk and share. I was honored and thrilled.

Walking back to the booth I would have been floating on cloud nine if it weren’t for the blisters on my feet from wearing my dress shoes. I thought about all the miracles over the past year – meeting Nicole, the radio show, the new clients, the new friends, the new contacts. I knew within every fiber of my being that speaking and writing and sharing about Heart Living was my life’s work. And just as I had helped others to understand, I felt more ready than ever to move forward and share my own unique gift with the world. And so it is.

Heart living sometimes encourages me to say goodbye to people and places that no longer resonate with me. These goodbyes require me to take full responsibility, to be gentle, and to be fair. They require me to gently and lovingly let go of being comfortably (or uncomfortably) stuck. I have been working with such a situation for the past few days. It was time to let a client who had been a spiritual mentor and friend go.

In the past few years I have shifted dramatically, and for a time we had lost touch. We reunited several months ago, and I welcomed her back in my practice. I found, however, that the adjustments she usually required in my schedule were not only inconvenient but caused a discordance within me. I sat with that in my heart awhile and realized that she was the last of a group of clients who I had given more to than I received in return. This, of course, was due to my own unwillingness to stand in my heart’s truth of the importance of timeliness (among other things) when dealing with others. I know that showing up on time and keeping an appointment scheduled weeks in advance is a way of honoring the sanctity of time shared.

I woke up this morning intending to send the email that I had postponed. I checked my Facebook page first, and there was this beautiful quote from Paulo Coelho:

If you’re brave enough to say “good-bye”, life will reward you with a new “hello.”

Reading this affirmed that all was in Divine Order and Divine Time. And so I carefully and lovingly crafted my email, offering her other possibilities in my schedule. She carefully and lovingly replied, basically saying “thanks but no thanks,” and wishing me well, and expressing hope that we will again reconnect. When I read this email my heart soared. I honored her, she honored me, a gentle and gracious goodbye was accomplished. All is well.

I’ve been blessed with several new hellos today. I scheduled two appointments, one with a new client, and one with a much-loved client I haven’t heard from in a while. This morning, Thomas and I met with a possible business advisor, a lovely and gifted woman who had taken a heart-living class with me. Our meeting went even better than I could have imagined, she so understands who we are and all the good and positivity we wish to share. When we were finished we shared genuine hugs, and we all felt the door to a world of possibilities had been opened.

I realized today that saying a mindful and heartfelt goodbye encourages me to honor the relationship and depart in love. It is a gracious way to gently acknowledge the shifts in me and the transitions in my life. And last but certainly not least, a mindful and heartfelt goodbye allows me to keep my rose-colored glasses solidly in place.

I sat for a moment in the car and smiled, remembering all the times in the past I have watched that long ponytail swing a goodbye. I can remember dropping her off at elementary school. She was often tentative at first, going up to the door and then turning around for one final wave and one more blown kiss. By the end of the first week or so, she’d bound out of the car, her ponytail swinging furiously as she ran to meet her friends. Usually she’d turn around for a final wave, but sometimes in her excitement she forgot.

When junior high came along, the ponytail and everything else seemed to change. She experimented with all kinds of different hairstyles. She was barely awake in the morning and more often than not grumpy. Sometimes I got a kiss good-bye and sometimes I got a groan. I often felt bewildered, never really sure of how I could help her or if I should help her during those turbulent years. When I was lucky enough to see the familiar ponytail, I was assured that eventually all would be well.

High school brought the ponytail back more frequently. She was often too busy in the morning and school was too demanding for her to fuss much with her hair. She was more sure of her own style then, and her beauty routine became streamlined. While sometimes she still was grumpy in the morning, I more often treasured our talks on the way to school on the days I gave her a ride. And while she still bounded out of the car, ponytail swinging, she always turned around and waved. Those days were tinged with a very slight melancholy. I was aware that they were numbered since soon enough she’d be driving or taking the train with her friends, and I’d see that ponytail even less frequently.

The bouncing ponytail wasn’t always a good-bye. I have always encouraged her to go in front of me, finding her own path, letting her know I had her back. I remember when she was about six and we’d go to the park for a run. I would jog along at my snail’s pace and she would fly ahead of me, engulfed in the pure delight of running as fast as she could, her ponytail flying behind her. I remember riding our bikes and how for the longest time she didn’t believe she could make it to the top of a steep hill. One day I challenged her to a race down one hill and to the top of the steep one and she took off before she even realized what I had asked. I shouted, “Go, go, go!, ” and she did, her ponytail racing behind her. She made it to the top that time, and I’ll never forget her amazement and joy in her accomplishment.

Although in my heart I still miss that delightful child, Jasmine has blossomed into a remarkable young woman, ready and eager to do amazing things in this world. As she has gotten older, our relationship has matured into a deep friendship. I often ask for her opinion and am grateful for her wisdom and ability to see the bigger picture. And although she calls me “crazy momma,” I know that she fully supports me in my work.

It’s been years since I’ve seen that ponytail from the view of a car’s window, and I can’t express how tickled I am and how blessed I feel to have had that vision again. It was a beautiful reminder that not only will I always have her back, but now she’ll always have mine, too. And I am incredibly grateful for both of these things.

So before I open my mouth I check in with my heart and ask, “Is this truly mine to do?” As expected, the answer is more often than not a resounding no. Once I take my own desire to be Supermom or Superfriend or Superwhatever I can understand that. i understand that everyone has their own lessons to learn and their own experiences to have.

This doesn’t mean that I let my loved ones flounder without me. They all know that I am a guaranteed soft place to fall, and if they ask me my opinion or thoughts, I will be more than happy to share them. And the blessing of being able to keep my mouth shut (and biting my tongue so hard I think it is going to bleed sometime) is that I have great relationships with my daughter, family, and friends — they know that I will listen carefully and speak calmly and honestly with love.

It’s difficult, though, for me to see people I love suffer, to see them pummeled by the different winds and ups and downs of life. Because I am one of those who wants to talk about things immediately, to get my concerns out in the open and resolved, I want others to be that way, too. Most of my friends and family, however, are quiet thinkers; they want to formulate their own understanding before they share, or they procrastinate making a decision, etc., etc., etc.

Recently I was having coffee with my good friend Jack, and I was having one heck of a time keeping my opinions to myself. Jack had been having ongoing problems with an ex and I could almost taste his frustration and irritation. He was complaining about this and about that, talking about anything and everything but what was truly on his mind. He wasn’t ready to share yet, but it was hard for me to listen to his unhappiness. I opened my mouth and seven magic words came out – “What can I do to help you?”

Jack just sat there for a moment in silence and blinked. He looked away for a minute and then looked back at me. And then he outlined his plans and asked me if they made sense. He asked if I knew a reasonably- priced lawyer. He asked if I would be willing to write a letter of support if he needed one. I answered his questions patiently and soon enough a smile of relief flooded over his face.

And as he asked it was crystal clear to me what was mine to do to help him.

I realized then that the problem people have with sharing their difficulties isn’t necessarily just an issue of readiness. It is often difficult to ask for help, especially when you are overwhelmed or tired or both. “What can I do to help you?” is an immediately extended hand, an offering that lets your friends and loved ones know that you honor the situation they are in and their ability to take care of it. You are just there to assist in the way they feel is best.

So for the past few weeks I’ve used those magic words a lot. I’ve been asked to make phone calls, cancel appointments, give hugs, make a grocery run. I’ve been asked to just listen and I’ve been asked for advice. I’ve been asked for the name of a good vet and to make some tea. All of these things I have done with gratitude and ease, because I know that they are truly mine to do.

As I came to know myself and love myself and explore my spiritual nature, the less important the pursuit of beauty became to me. I didn’t pay much attention to my hair or my face in the mirror, or the clothes that I wore. I looked presentable enough, but didn’t really look or feel beautiful. Then I was blessed to meet Edda at a networking event. Edda is a talented hairstylist who is very gifted spiritually as well. She wanted to study with me, and so we set up a trade — she’d do my hair once a month and I would either teach her Reiki or some other modality or give her a healing session.

One of Edda’s gifts is that she can see the inner beauty of everyone and create a hairstyle that allows that beauty to shine on the outside. She speaks to that inner beauty in all whom she has contact with and helps them, male or female, see their beauty, too. I’ve seen her in action, turning clients around to face the mirror after she has worked her magic on their hair, and watched their smiles grow. She did that for me, too, and I started to want the beauty I felt on the inside to be reflected on the outside, too, beyond just my hair.

So I started to look at clothes and shoes and purses again, but this time from a different perspective. In the past I would look at clothing to see if it would flatter my figure or cover my “flaws” before I would consider buying it. I would not wear colorful clothing because I didn’t want to draw attention to myself or my imperfections. Clothing was camouflage, not beauty. But then I began to be drawn to clothes in colors and patterns and styles that resonated in my heart. I bought a pink sweater that I get compliments on whenever I wear it. I even bought dresses, and tops in blues and purples and greens… I found that when I wore these clothes that I thought were pretty, I felt pretty in them. And I realized that feeling pretty was feeling good, and feeling good was feeling loved, and feeling loved is powerfully spiritual.

So now I surround myself with beauty as much as I can. I buy inexpensive bouquets at Trader Joe’s. I go for a walk in the neighborhoods that have the most beautiful gardens. I wear jewelry that reflects peace and joy. I don’t swear or say negative things because those words are ugly. I try to see the beauty in all that I meet, human or animal or plant, and give them all a sincere compliment as well. I smile as much as I can, knowing that a smile radiates and encourages beauty more than a disinterested expression or a scowl.

I was looking through some quotes by Ralph Waldo Emerson, who is one of my favorite sources of inspiration, and found this:

Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything that is beautiful;
for beauty is God’s handwriting.

I am grateful to Edda for helping me to discover this truth, and I hope you all feel beautiful on both the inside and the outside today.

These are just the external changes, the ones people notice and comment on. There has been many more shifts internally. I’ve gone from being a person who pooh-poohed the very idea of Reiki and energy work to a full-time teacher and practitioner of Reiki and other energetic modalities. I’ve gone from a person who had difficulty saying the word God to a person who has devoured the writings of a variety of mystics from different religious and spiritual traditions, who spends much time in prayer and meditation, and who strives to be in constant communion with Spirit. Even if I’m tired I eagerly get up to go to church on Sunday, knowing it will help me feel better the entire week. Sometimes I even go to church mid-week!

Healers and others that I would have poked fun at before are now colleagues and friends. Friends that I thought would be life-long have faded away. A long ago dream of a soup business is now a thriving reality. The list of my changes seems almost endless.

Through it all I’ve pretty much been able to stay centered in myself, to uncover some pretty amazing things – my limitless love, and joy, and that word that never was in my vocabulary –peace. And I’ve been able to mostly let go of judgment and worry and hysteria. But no mattered how centered I’ve stayed, these shifts and changes have been huge, and for most of the past five years I’ve felt like I’ve been treading water, trying to stay afloat.

Yesterday was the first time in a long time that I felt like I had finally touched bottom. All the Truths I have come to know, all the classes I’ve created and taught, and all the classes and teachings I’ve learned have come together in my heart and my mind as a cohesive whole. I realized how blessed I am to truly love my present work. The retreat last night was for a harried group of young mothers, one of whom couldn’t sit still without constant fidgeting. By the end of the evening they were all relaxed and happy, armed with tools to help them stay that way. I taught a class the previous week to a group who asked me when my book was coming out. The material I taught them was from my first two chapters! I help my private clients heal and understand themselves in ways no doctor can.

I can finally now truly honor and acknowledge my gift, and feel grateful for the changes and shifts that have allowed me to experience and use it more fully. And I not only preach it and teach it, I completely live it, or at least most days and most times. So I’m not going to say I got my groove back, because the one I am in now is entirely new. And finally, it’s comfortable, too. It is me; it is who I truly am.

We often complain about change, fighting it tooth and nail. And even if we don’t fight it, change can be hard. It was hard to witness my business fall apart and the illness of my father. It was hard to see my baby girl leave and blossom into a woman. Even being married to the most wonderful man in the world is a huge adjustment.

I am most grateful that I stayed open to it all, to constantly look for the lesson and the gift and the grace in the midst of all the turmoil. And this, perhaps is the greatest gift of all – knowing that no matter how long this present groove does or doesn’t last, I am blessed enough to now be able to find the blessings in all the changes and shifts that happen in life. And so it is.

One woman, Laura, had taken classes with me before. She is extremely intuitive and loving but having a real struggle stepping into her gift. She is in a difficult marriage, and things she was able to tolerate before all seemed intolerable to her now; her very spirit is trying to free itself from the confines she has put it in. I understood Laura’s predicament, having lived it myself, so when she asked for an Akashic Record reading, I was more than happy to oblige.

Laura had been extremely judgmental of others, especially herself. Whenever her heart and soul called her to do something praiseworthy, she’d immediately beat herself up and call herself names such as boastful and conceited. She would feel wonderful and then either her husband or old habits would pull her back into her old familiar misery, which she would then try to pull herself out of by standing in the truth of her generosity and loving spirit, which she would then berate herself for, and the cycle continued. She was exhausted. She mentioned that a psychic told her once that when she got like that to visualize an emergency break and pulling it on. The message from the Records was immediate: put it in neutral.

Both Laura and I immediately got it, and sighed deeply. Throwing on the emergency break is a somewhat violent action – it’s difficult to end a passionate argument midstream. A frantic stream of worry can’t always be immediately shut down. Sometimes life is just too overwhelming to come to a screeching halt. Yet putting it in neutral is a gentler way to let go of a situation; it allows you to turn gently in the direction you need to while relinquishing the need to control. It allows you to gracefully wind down without the trauma of a dramatic ending. Neutral gives you time. Neutral implies a return to balance without judgment.

I ’ve held on to “neutral” as my own heart word since Saturday. It made it easier to keep my mouth shut when there was a disagreement between Thomas and his daughter that had nothing to do with me. It allowed me to hold onto my patience when a client rescheduled for the third time. It also allowed me to process for myself the killing of Osama Bin Laden without being thrown in the judgmental mix of public reactions. I could listen to what friends and family had to say without adding my two cents of confirmation or denial. Neutral allowed me to clarify my own feelings and understandings without judging others, and to maintain an inner calm when the energy of the whole world seems out of whack. Neutral allowed me to stay with my own feelings that I was unable to express until I found the perfect quote by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.:

” I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.”

I wish the whole world would live in love and peace. I wish we could all love ourselves and each other wholeheartedly. While this a worthy goal, it seems beyond a lot of humanity right now. So as we are learning to love our neighbors as ourselves , maybe we can all aim for neutral, and let there be some quiet and peace in our hearts, our homes, our neighborhoods, and our world.

In some ways Tim and I appear to be so different that people have asked me if we are really related. And I have to admit, for many years, I didn’t quite see how we emerged from the same family, either. But as I’ve gotten older and a little bit wiser, I understand that while we have taken very different paths, fundamentally we are very similar. There is no doubt that we are brother and sister.

While I pursued education the traditional way, Tim was a jack-of-all-trades and a frequent student at the school of hard knocks. So when I was learning a lot about academia, Tim learned a lot about life. He has worked at and studied everything from short order cooking to musical instrument repair to being an absolute mechanical wiz on just about any vehicle – from bicycles to motorcycles to cars to boats to eighteen wheeled trucks. He reads a lot, with a breadth that is stunning. As my father was, Tim’s an encyclopedia of all kinds of information, so much that after a conversation I’ll ask myself, “How does he know that?” Although we’ve been interested in different subjects, and often have different ideas and opinions, we both share a keen interest in and love of learning.

Tim is also a deeply spiritual man. When I was still doubting the existence of God, being too intellectually superior for the possibility, Tim was studying Native American traditions in Iowa with an Elder he loved and who loved him deeply. He has a natural appreciation of and reverence for the earth and all its critters, and they know that. A few months ago when he was in a lot of pain and feeling especially disheartened, a bald eagle appeared outside the window and stayed for almost an hour, giving Tim hope and courage to continue on. Cats and dogs and small children all come up to him naturally and easily – they can sense and feel his love and appreciation of them.

While my open-heartedness has come with diligent spiritual work, for Tim it is natural. Simply put, he has always, unquestionably, unhesitatingly, helped those in need. Flat tire on the highway? Tim stops. A homeless man needing a couple dollars to get some food? Tim will give him his last five dollars and take him to a great mom and pop place where he can get a filling meal. When Jasmine went to Paris her junior year, he saved up so he could give her $500 to enjoy herself. A couple weeks ago he drove over six hours round trip to pick up a friend’s daughter who had been abused by her boyfriend. He brought her home, helped her clean up, and made sure she got back to her family in Ohio. He does all this good work naturally, with no thought of reward or being owed a favor.

Tim knows more people and has more friends and connections than anyone I know. He can walk up to a stranger, have a conversation, and make a new friend. And while to me he can seem loud and rambunctious, everyone appreciates his hearty laugh and the real love and concern he has for his fellow man. He is an expert at connecting people — if you have a need, he knows someone who can help you in a way that is beneficial for all involved.

Like many sensitive, loving spirits, Tim has a trusting nature, and at times people have taken advantage of him or hurt him in ways that are unfathomable. And while he feels deeply wounded at times, his faith and spirit are strong. Right now he suffers from a lot of pain physically that effects him in every other way as well. Yet, Sunday before I flew back to Chicago we were all in good spirits, and blessed to share a delightful meal that we all enjoyed – Tim, Mom, Jasmine, and me. We were sitting in a restaurant and Tim let loose with one of his hearty laughs, and instead of being embarrassed, it sounded like music to my ears.

And so while I realize that we each have our own lessons to learn, I pray that Tim receives both good luck and grace and finds his way out of the hurt and pain, so he can return to being the absolute blessing that he is to all. And I am extremely grateful that I have done enough of my own learning and growing to appreciate the gift that he is.

A few days ago a friend who has known me for many years asked me how I stay this way. I thought that that would be a great topic for a blog, the little things I do most every day to keep me in Divine Love and in balance. One of the most important things I do is have a gentle entrance into the day. I don’t have a shrill alarm clock blasting me into attention. I wake up to the smell of fresh brewing coffee, one of my favorite smells in the world. I usually have a CD of meditation music next to the bed, and I will press play and listen while I enjoy the state of being between sleep and wakefulness. While in that state I become aware of any thoughts or ideas that I had upon awakening, and mentally (or sometimes out loud) affirm that it will be a glorious day. I express gratitude for my blessings — my warm bed, my husband and family and cat, work that I enjoy, my amazing clients, etc., and then I feel a heart word.

A heart word is literally that, a word that resonates with my heart to keep me centered in love. A lot of times a heart word will stay with me for a while, especially if it is a quality or concept I want to internalize. A lot of last year was spent with the word “expansive.” Over this winter “patience” was often my word. Today, the word has been “peaceful.” With this word in my heart and as my companion, any time during the day when I feel a little low or am trying to make a decision, I think of my heart word and ask myself, “ Am I peaceful as I do this?” or “Will this decision bring me peace?” If I don’t feel a clear “yes” then I look at alternatives or probe a little deeper to find out why.

Living with a heart word eradicates a lot of “coulda shoulda woulda’s.” If something doesn’t resonate with me, I don’t say it, do it, or worry about it. It is clear that it is not mine to do. If it does resonate with me, I take immediate action so I can be at peace, or feel expansive, or do whatever it is that keeps me in union with my heart word. A heart word is a centering thing, and keeps me from being engulfed in petty distractions.

I also have bedtime rituals that help me sleep well and wake up refreshed. I don’t watch the evening news or even much TV at all. The news is rarely new, and any information I need I can find on the internet throughout the day. After I am bed I listen to soft meditation music. I again express gratitude for my day and all it contained. I send prayers, love, and healing energy to those who need it. I spend a few minutes in spiritual forgiveness – reviewing the day to see if there were any I put outside my heart, then forgiving them and putting them back in.

And then I forgive myself. I review to be sure I wasn’t rude or judgmental or impatient, even if it was something relatively inconsequential such as impatiently blowing my horn in traffic. I take whatever lesson or gift there is in the experience, forgive myself, and let it go. And I drift off to sleep feeling peaceful, loved, and loving.

I know that this practice is easier for me than others, because I don’t have kids at home or an extremely packed schedule (due, in large part, to minding my heart words) and I do have flexibility. However, anyone can wake up ten minutes earlier and count their blessings and start the day with a smile. Anyone can find a heart word to check in on during the day, and anyone can turn off the TV a half-hour earlier and peacefully and lovingly close their day.

I invite you to try these simple steps for a week. Then you can join me in being mostly an even-tempered, calm and happy person, more often than not filled with love and strongly connected to Spirit.

It has been an interesting trip, and great practice in removing judgment about life experiences. We had last minute cancellations for the retreat. I was scheduled to teach a class on gemstone healing to a group of eighth graders that cancelled less than twenty-four hours before class time. It has rained more on this trip than any other time I’ve visited the Virgin Islands. Thomas found out right before he left Chicago that he had business to attend to on Monday and would have to leave earlier than originally planned. We paid three hundred dollars to change his ticket and found out the next morning that both meetings were rescheduled and he could have stayed another day. And to top it all off, both Thomas and I got a nasty case of food poisoning that left us both totally exhausted for almost five days. The relentless snags in our plans left me questioning if the island life I so loved was truly mine to live.

And yet, strangely enough, I was able to stay calm through most of it. Part of it was not having the energy to get upset – food poisoning is utterly exhausting. Part of it was realizing that Mercury was in retrograde for a lot of this trip, and for me, cancellations are a common occurrence during this time. But most of it was trust that everything was in Divine Order and Divine Time, however that was to play out. The difficulty with this, of course, is trying to be patient and to not try too hard to figure it all out.

And we have had some wonderful experiences. The views, the warmth, the new people we’ve met, the meeting of friends from last year, all this has been beautiful. Yesterday I helped Ivanne at Rare Earth Studio sell gemstones at a Wellness Fair held at beautiful Magen’s Bay beach, where I also led a meditation. I made a lot of contacts, both for my energy work and the soup business. Thomas and I spent a day at Coki Beach snorkeling and relaxing that was so lovely that we felt we were on a honeymoon. It was truly a day that we felt gratitude for from the moment we woke up until we went to bed that night.

My favorite time was on the Saturday morning before the retreat. Ivanne asked us to set up a table at a YWCA function in Emancipation Garden to talk to those interested in energy healing. Thomas put out some of his singing bowls, and we soon had a flock of young girls around us. Thomas played a bowl and they were fascinated. He told them to hold their hands near the bowls without touching them to feel the vibrations. When he struck the bowls their eyes got big with wonder. I explained to them about energy and vibrations and they got it. They thought that it was all incredibly cool (that and my hair, not a lot of redheads on the island), stayed a little longer and then flitted away. It was truly a joyous experience.

And so while we certainly have had our challenges here, I have no doubt that spending as much time as our business allows us to in this beautiful paradise is in our Divine plan. I mentioned at the Wellness Fair that at a client’s request, we may hold another retreat in October. I was immediately and graciously invited to teach three classes at various locations. I just need to be sure I schedule our trip when there is no Mercury retrograde in sight!

Thomas and I have attended Unity in Chicago for about a year. Thomas had grown increasingly needing of a Sunday lesson that created a spiritual idea that demanded thought throughout the week. I was coming out of a self-imposed “time away for a while,” in which I read and emulated mystics of all kinds, from Buddhist to Hindu to Christian. My longing to know God’s love, to feel God’s love in me, as me, at all times, had consumed me. And while I experienced phenomenal spiritual understanding and growth, I felt it was time to re-join a community of like-minded spirits.

During my reading time and practice with the mystics, I came to realize how in line my beliefs were with Unity teachings. The honoring of all paths to God, the denial of dualism and evil as anything but what we as humans create in our own minds, the understanding that God is Source or Substance and not some man in long flowing robes sitting on a throne in heaven, all made sense to me. Jesus as the human part of us all who comes into full awareness of his Divinity; Christ, the individual God essence in all of us. This I understood.

After my father’s transition last April, we both felt it was time to try the big church on Thome. Thomas had taken some ministerial classes with Rev. Erica and appreciated the depth and passion of her knowledge, and her encouragement of her students to always seek more. I had a couple friends who went to this church who encouraged me to go, too. And so we did.

When I first met Rev. Erica I was struck by her beauty and light. She dressed impeccably in ensembles from her earrings to her shoes. Her piercing blue eyes were inquisitive, mischievous, and full of love. She immediately recognized Thomas and gave him a warm hug. After we were introduced she gave me a warm hug as well, and from that point forward never forgot my name and made me feel special and welcome, which she did with all of the congregants.

Thomas and I took as many classes as we could from Rev. Erica, and I felt myself soaking up her knowledge like a sponge. She clearly had devoted her life and her mind to all things metaphysical, and during each class she could help us all, from those who had never stepped into any church before to seasoned New Agers and Religion Hoppers. And she made all of us feel equally welcome.

And while all of us congregants admired her as an incredible teacher and spiritual leader, we loved her for her humanity. Rev. Erica stood in her truth; never hiding her own struggles or questions with us, but using them as examples to illustrate her lessons. She made God real and alive for each of us. And while it definitely took a big personality to minister to such a large and diverse church, she was never a diva. She made sure we all knew that we the community were Unity in Chicago, and she was just the minister who loved us and devoted herself to us with every breath of her being.

When Rev. Erica’s illness began to show real signs of winning, instead of stepping down or slowing down, she amped things up; she started a mid-week service, and brought Mary Morrissey to us to talk, to give a workshop, and to offer her class. She did this out of her immense love for us, to make sure we as community would continue to thrive. And then she showed us the true beauty of transition, the truth that all of us are spiritual beings having a human existence.

And just as it is difficult to let any friend go, I am saddened by the loss of this incredible woman. But more than that, I am so grateful to have been blessed with the opportunity to experience her message of light, love and laughter, and her devotion to the community who now experiences and lives her message, too. Because of you, Rev. Erica, I live in light, love, and laughter, too. Thank you.

“Why, Bea,” I asked, “How old is your son?” “Sixty-eight.” “And how old are you?” “Ninety-two.” I was stunned by her youthfulness, but also a bit dismayed. “Your son is almost seventy and you STILL worry about him?” She let go a shower of laughter so infectious I couldn’t help but join in, us laughing until our sides ached. And thus a great friendship was born.

Bea told Bob how much better she was feeling after having her weekly massage, and it wasn’t too long before Bob came and had a weekly massage, too. Wednesday afternoons became a highlight of my week. We’d talk about families and life and politics every once in a while. I learned some great Yiddish phrases, my favorite being, “What does she want, soup with her noodles?” in reference to a demanding daughter-in-law. I also learned some great life lessons – do the best you can, enjoy the ride along the way, acknowledge and deal with life’s challenges, but don’t let them define who you are.

Bea died a couple years ago, at one hundred and one. She had had small strokes and falls and dementia that left her confused most of the time. In our weekly visits, however, she would have moments of lucidity, which I treasured. I still gave her her massage and reflexology, sensing her relaxation as she felt my familiar touch. I felt blessed to be able to help her, and I miss her still.

Bob and I continued with his massage. After his mother died I suddenly realized that Bob was an old man, too. He has been a type one diabetic for over sixty years. At first Bob came to my city office, but soon enough he was in a senior living facility and I did a house call for him, too. I joined him for lunch, we’d talk about our lives and families, and then I would give him reflexology and massage.

For the past several months Bob has been struggling with his health. Although he had weeks when his blood sugar was so high he was exhausted and a little confused, he absolutely never complained and was always grateful to see me. He had an episode a few months ago, and he was in the hospital and then rehab for almost two months. I called once or twice and left messages, but didn’t go to see him. I would think to call him but then always find an excuse not to, so a couple of months went by with no contact. I finally called last night and a young foreign voice answered the phone, a caregiver.

“May I speak to Bob?” “Who is this?” “Cynthia.” When he got on the phone his voice was weak, but he told me what he could remember from his hospital stay. We made plans to get together next week, and with a heavy heart, I hung up the phone. The child in me rebelled – I have watched too many people I love die lately and I don’t know if I can deal with another one or not. After all, he’s not even family!

I listened to this child in me. I let her exclaim and complain. And then I acknowledged that it was hard, indeed, to let loved ones go. Together we said goodbye again to Bea and Adele and Margaret and especially Dad. We thought of some wonderful memories and honored what each of these special souls had taught us. And the child in me was appeased and quieted back down.

So the grown–up me smiles and remembers all the fun I’ve had with Bob, how he told me at his mother’s funeral that he loves me, how he thinks my kid is the best thing since sliced bread. And I take a deep breath and mark my calendar for our visit, and promise myself to be present and grateful for how ever many visits together we have left.

One of the obvious side-effects of patience is presence (duh!). I discovered that I have most often been present and aware in the midst of doing. When I am going for a walk, I am aware of the beauty in the puddles and in the many shades of grey this time of year. When I am washing the dishes, I am aware of the pleasure of the warm water on my hands and the pure energy of cleanliness. When I am driving to work, I am aware of my car’s easy ability to start and maneuver in Chicago’s brutal winters. And all of this awareness leads to gratitude.

What this week has taught me, however, is that patience before the doing or even before the deciding what to do opens me up even more to my feelings and my guidance. So instead of doing what I think I am supposed to do, I have been doing what feels right for me to do. When I woke up this morning at 4:00am with ideas for emails to send and press releases to write, I easily got up and wrote them all, without trying to convince myself that I needed to go back to bed and do them later in the day. I spent two hours in the quiet completing all I had set out to do and more, and because I allowed myself to do this, I was also able to have a nice, long meditation/nap combination this afternoon that left me feeling refreshed and inspired. By being patient and living in an easy flow this past week I have accomplished so much more with much more pleasure and much less time than at any other time in my life. Who knew that patience would allow me to release all the couldas, shouldas, wouldas that were throwing roadblocks in my way?

Patience has also given me deeper appreciation for the people in my life. Instead of snipping at Thomas, I have been able to see his true strength and beauty, and honor him for his diligence and grounding. I have lingered and joked with clients and friends instead of worrying about the time in the back of my mind, and I have been able to appreciate the specialness in each of these individuals. I have returned phone calls and emails when I was able to sit and enjoy them, rather than running through them so as to check them off my list.

And patience has given me the ability to savor. I savored my morning cup of coffee instead of gulping it down as I dressed. I savored the softness of my cat’s fur as I petted her, instead of petting her absent-mindedly while impatiently doing something else. I savored the energy of the beautiful space meditation puts me in, and I savored the richly satisfying ending to a good book, instead of immediately jumping up and running to the next pressing activity. Blessings in all of this.

I also realized how patience is a hugely spiritual practice. Patience requires faith, hope, and trust, the conscious realization that all is in Divine Order and in Divine Time. It has made me truly realize and internalize that life is more about the unfolding of grace and truth than the race against time. So while learning this lesson of patience put me through a couple of weeks of serious discomfort, it is a gift that is so powerful and present with me now that I am positively awestruck. And so very grateful and so very blessed.

It was a visit back to my past when worry and fear and frustration and franticness ruled my life. That mindset and lifestyle just doesn’t fit anymore, which made it even more uncomfortable. I knew this while I was in the thick of it and it did not help at all. I was still impatient and miserable and stuck.

There’s a process that we go through as spiritual beings that is often called releasing, and that Unity calls chemicalization, but is basically growing pains. The idea is that we see and know and even experience a deeper and more profound truth than we have ever before, and in order to fully understand and be able to live in this truth we need to completely let go of our old reality. You have to shed it off you like a snake abandoning last year’s skin and sweat it out like sitting in a sauna for an hour or two.

Unfortunately, while in the process of letting go it comes up to the surface, like the gunk at the bottom of a well before the clear water can flow. Knowing this doesn’t make the process easier, but it does give you strength and patience to let it process out instead of falling back into it.

All my life I’ve had this insanely critical voice in my head, clearly letting me know that whatever it is that I’m doing is frankly not good enough. This voice uses fear and guilt as its main motivator, and has actually done me some good, because I’ve accomplished some amazing things in my life, albeit with very little enjoyment of the process. In the past several years I’ve learned to quiet the voice and not give it so much attention. Last week my chemicalization was all about letting that voice completely go. I got that it had nothing to do with where I am now and no longer served me in any way.

It didn’t go without a fight. I was so physically uncomfortable I was downing ibuprofen by the handful. Sleep was extremely fitful, accompanied by crazy, awful, fearful dreams. My nastiness got to such a point that I cursed at Thomas. I haven’t cursed in years, I just don’t like the vibration and the feel of those words in my mouth. Thomas was going through his own chemicalization, and he withdrew and snipped right back.

And then on Friday night, after the worst blow-up in our relationship, we were both done. We both softened and talked about the private hell we had been going through personally and together. And a deep, deep peace and gratitude hit us both at the same time. How blessed were we to be on the same page with our spiritual understanding, and to know that our deep love for each other superseded everything. We both finally slept soundly that night.

That voice has truly left me now, leaving the sure knowledge that whatever I do or feel or know is truly enough. I feel absolutely expansive and joyful. I have noticed a difference in my work, my prayer, my meditation, my relationships. And now, since that voice has left, patience and grace have naturally come in to fill that space, bringing in more love and light and compassion for me and the rest of the rest of the world. And a lot of gratitude and peace. Ahhhhhh……..

Thomas made a comment about me waiting until spring to start practicing my cheerleading moves, but has otherwise been supportive, of course. So I’m trying not to act like a big baby and to look for the gift in the fall.

My work has taught me the truth of such platitudes as “Everything happens for a reason.” and “There are no accidents.” Our job is to find the gift, release the problem, replace it with something positive, and move on. I have no problem helping others with this. Doing it myself? Humph!

Looking for the physical reason for the fall, was I scattered and being not mindful, not present? No, I had realized how treacherous it can be when the ice is melting and hidden under a thin layer of water. I wasn’t wearing my glasses, though, which meant my depth perception was off. Was there something I didn’t want to see, that I was avoiding dealing with? Nope, I just didn’t want to have to have my glasses all spotted up, making it even more difficult for me to see clearly. No easy answer there.

How about compassion for others who have to always live with such pain? Maybe. I know both my mother and especially my brother have lower back problems that leave them in almost constant pain. But I naturally and easily help those who have trouble moving around, especially in this weather. I have compassion… maybe I needed a little more empathy?

Appreciation for those who help me? Gratitude and please and thank you are both automatic and heart-felt for me. What could it be then? Of course! It’s my eternal and internal nemesis, patience. It’s the most elusive of spiritual qualities for me. I want everything done yesterday, and my daily to-do list is never reasonable, which makes me even more impatient because I believe that I’ve already fallen behind half-way through my day! I rarely feel like I’ve accomplished enough, so I’m often in a hurry. Impatience + hurry+ ice = nasty fall. A completely balanced equation.

Impatience is not good spiritual practice. It confounds being present, it confounds being aware, it interferes with restful and enlightening meditation. If not constantly checked, impatience can also lead to snippiness with others (ask Thomas) and harsh judgment of oneself. With this pain I have been forced to move more slowly and mindfully. I also have been resting way more than I usually do, and I’m really surprised at how wonderful it feels to be well-rested.

I have also found that when I am moving slower than I usually do, and not keeping myself physically busy, it’s much easier to get sucked up into a brain hurricane of possible catastrophes that can befall me and my loved ones. Not pretty. So I have spent a lot of time consciously moving my thoughts out of my head and into my heart, practicing a lot of the spiritual tools I talk about and teach about – a quick visualization here, a heartword there, practicing with the work of Mary Morrissey. It truly amazes me how all the worries and the “what if’s” that I carry in my head can be soothed by the loving truth in my heart. It’s truly a beautiful thing. It’s a trust in the Universe, my intuition, a power greater than me.

So my new heartword is patience. Every time I feel a little agitated or stuck, I’ll ask myself, “Am I handling this with patience and grace?” If the answer is no, I’ll take a deep breath and take a different course of action. I feel much clearer now. Okay, now that I’ve got it, will the pain just leave me immediately, right now? I’ve got so much to catch up on!

Oops! Not handled with patience or grace. Okay, I will be patient with the healing of my leg. It’s not always easy for me to practice what I teach, but I always appreciate the mastery of a new quality or skill. So right here, right now, I affirm that I will good-naturedly practice patience until it is a natural and integral part of who I am. And so it is.

I remember Valentine’s Days like those, so caught up in the hype and expectations that almost anything was bound to be a disappointment. If I was single at the time I would hang out with girlfriends and we would pretend all was right in our world, though our hearts knew otherwise on that day. Or I would hunker down at home in a pity party for myself, complete with a bottle of wine and a pint of Ben and Jerry’s. I would make sure that Jasmine’s Valentine Day was special, with heart-shaped cookies and a beautiful valentine and stuffed animal, but I never treated myself with the same love.

If I was with a man on Valentine’s Day, disappointment was usually there, too. I remember being in a relatively new relationship, only a couple of months old, wondering what would happen on February 14th. He had said we’d go to dinner and he’d pick me up at 7:00. He finally arrived at 8:00 with a tiny plastic rose he bought at a gas station. When he saw my crestfallen face, he went on a rant about how unfair Valentine’s Day was to men and there was no pleasing women on this date. Looking back, this should have been a very clear signal that he wasn’t thoughtful to say the least, but sometimes I just don’t get it, and this relationship ended up being a horrible second marriage. Needless to say, every Valentine’s Day in that marriage ended up being a drama.

When that marriage finally ended and I realized that I truly needed to learn to love and honor myself if I ever wanted anyone else to, I no longer dreaded Valentine’s Day. I would use it as an occasion to buy myself a special treat, whether it was a box of Godiva dark chocolates or an expensive bottle of champagne, or both. I would spend the evening watching a movie or reading a book – real luxuries when I was a busy single Mom running her own massage practice. I would feel rested and content.

As I got better at loving myself I would think of Valentine’s Day as a day of gratitude. I’d call up far-away friends and tell them why I loved them. I would give little gifts to friends who were near and dear, and take an elderly home-bound client to lunch. I started to see Valentine’s Day as a way to consciously express love to all those in my world.

When Thomas came along we went to dinner and a play on our first Valentine’s Day together. We both dressed up and looked fine (my bright red heels killing my feet.) The downtown high-end seafood restaurant had a special menu and a rose on every table. It was also extremely packed and noisy. Every Valentine’s Day since we have spent at home, treasuring the quiet and romance we create ourselves.

We spent today at a tasting for the employees of a gourmet market and catering business that carries our soups. I wore a pink sweater and made Thomas change into his red one. Everyone just loved our soup and our story, and one of the employees remarked that she bet Thomas had big plans this evening for Valentine’s Day. I piped up and said that with Thomas, every day is Valentine’s Day. And it’s true.

With the spiritual practice I have devoted myself to over the past several years, I live in love and gratitude most of the time. I have a deep, spiritual love for all of mankind, and I have little trouble expressing it. And now Valentine’s Day is a favorite of mine, when the world joins me in acknowledging the power and beauty of love. I hope someday we all will continue to joyously express our love beyond the twenty –four hours of this day. And so of course, I wish you and yours much love today and in all the days beyond.

I attended a workshop by Mary Morissey a few weeks ago, and one of the many nuggets of wisdom she shared was “inspiration without action is entertainment.” I loved that! It’s all good to dream big and pray to Spirit for manifestation. It’s a whole different ball game to actually pay attention to our inspiration and then act on it.

When I used to think of guidance and inspiration I thought that Spirit would lay out a yellow brick road for me to follow, a very clear though sometimes winding road that would lead me directly to Oz. Waiting for this road to materialize really wasted a lot of my time.

In the first place, when I imagined a journey as a magical road in front of me it immediately limited my view as to where I was right then, and the beauty and possibilities surrounding me. Spirit could have told me to look to my right and pay attention to that opportunity right there, and I would have brushed it right off, saying, get out of my way, I’m waiting for my road!

I was also convinced that this would be an almost blindingly clear path, with steps that shouted, “do this now!” “do this now!” “do this now!,” and I would have absolutely no doubt as to what was mine to do. Fortunately, there have been times when guidance has come as a clear tinkling bell or a giant cosmic thwack, both of which I’m absolutely grateful for. But more often, guidance comes as a feeling, a hunch, a knowing, or an idea that my reasoning just can’t understand. And because my reasoning can’t figure it out or the guidance presents itself quietly and gently, I easily dismiss it or ignore it. And guidance questioned too much or totally ignored is a missed miracle.

The beauty of guidance is that once you get the hang of getting it and taking action you are sometimes rewarded immediately. If you would have told me a year ago that our soups would be sold in gourmet grocery stores across the city of Chicago, I wouldn’t have believed it. When I was able to let go of my thoughts and expectations – “These are my soups, I know the best way to sell them!” -and pay attention to my guidance – “Really, Cynthia, this is Thomas’ to do, leave him alone already!” The business immediately blossomed.

Which has allowed me to do what is mine to do. Taking action on my intuition led me to reach out to others beyond my immediate sphere for the retreat. This week it has led me to talk easily about my work to a stranger who is now a new client. Intuition constantly challenges me to step out of my day-to-day experience and comfort zone to take action. And the result? Miracles beyond my wildest expectations — like a successful soup business, an annual retreat held in a beautiful tropical location, and an awesome radio show.

Considering that this was just a neighborhood store, not a destination market, I’d be willing to bet that very,very few of those shoppers lived more than a block or two away. According to all reports, the weather will be fierce through tomorrow afternoon, and is projected to leave about a foot and a half of snow. And then it will be done. And by early tomorrow evening we city dwellers will be able to emerge from the warmth of our homes and trudge to our neighborhood groceries and back.

So why all the hysteria and fear? We know that the TV and radio news tends to be dramatized for the sake of ratings. And even with all the drama, the predictions are there – icky today and tomorrow, a foot and a half of snow, far from insurmountable for us hearty Chicagoans. I think that we get so fearful because we get so stuck in our left-brain hurricane that we can’t connect to the wisdom in our hearts. This wisdom lives and thrives in love and peace and doesn’t get hooked into hysteria. My heart’s wisdom tells me to take stock and check what we may need until the weekend. Some mayonnaise for tuna sandwiches, some veggies, some red wine to sip while we are watching the show outside. We don’t need eight loaves of bread or a mountain of frozen dinners.

My heart’s wisdom next tells me to reach out to my neighbors. Does the elderly Greek lady a couple doors down have enough heat and food? I see her teenaged grandchildren through her window. They must have come to stay with her. Good! Any shoveling to be done? The neighbor who got the snow blower for Christmas is taking care of that. A quick run up and down the condo stairs lets me know that all my immediate neighbors are in and safe and sound.

My heart’s wisdom next tells me to think about the greater good. Unfortunately, we don’t have any extra soups in stock to deliver tonight. I have made a list of places to donate soup when our stock is replenished. I am sure it will be welcomed…

My heart’s wisdom next tells me to turn within. Inside my heart is deep gratitude. Gratitude for the snow day, a free day to stay inside and meditate and read and do all those other quiet things I love to do that I only get to do in snippets on weekday workdays. Gratitude that everyone in my world is safe and warm. Gratitude for those brave souls who are manning the homeless shelters, the snow plows, the ambulances, the hospitals on this bitter night. Lots of blessings and prayers to them, too.

My deepest gratitude is for the self-love within that knows my heart to be a place of deep peace, love, and understanding. This knowing keeps me in constant connection to my heart’s wisdom, which gives me the ability to stay calm and find truth and compassion in all situations, including heavy winter blizzards…

Trying to find a clear definition of ego is like trying to find a toothpick in a pile of kindling. After much reading and thinking, my understanding is that the ego is the part of you who cares and knows about who you are. It is your identity, it is all the work your left-brain has done all your life to establish your place in the world. It is your understanding of what other people think about you, too. Ego gets a bad reputation when people act immaturely and selfishly, without considering the world around them. This is ego in the extreme, and is equivalent to a two-year-old’s ranting, red-faced, fist-pounding fit.

An absence of ego is total selflessness, which is an avoidance of the human experience. And in our society, selflessness is a tricky thing. Selflessness can easily be interpreted as martyrdom, or even as a lack of self-love. After all, when you’re sitting in an airplane listening to the emergency announcement, the flight attendant doesn’t say “Make sure the entire plane has their oxygen mask on first before you put yours on, you egotistical lout!” The flight attendant tells you to put yours on first before you help others. You need to be able to breathe fully and deeply before you can help others breathe, too.

When my ego tells me my feelings are hurt or a situation is not in my best interest I pay very careful attention. I try to discern why I am feeling that way, if it’s the whole story, or if there is a lesson for me to learn. When Jasmine comes home from college and she spends time hanging out with her friends and her Dad’s family instead of spending every single moment with me, my ego lets me know that my feelings are hurt. I acknowledge those feelings, and mourn the fact that there will probably never be a time that Jasmine will be in my house for a great length of time again. Then I take those feelings, forgive myself for them, and put those feelings safely back in my heart.

Those hurt feelings are a testament to the love I have for my child. Honoring them and putting them in my heart is a spiritual practice that allows me to not only be grateful for the time I do have with my child, but also for the fact that she is loved by and loves many others as well. If I would have bashed my ego for having those “immature and selfish” feelings, I would not only feel even worse about myself, I wouldn’t have reached this deeper spiritual understanding and resolution.

Experiencing bliss and oneness with the Universe is a beautiful thing, but striving to be in that space at all times isn’t a lack of ego, or even selflessness. It’s simply not being present on Earth right here, right now. A true spiritual experience on Earth is a human one. Those of us in balance with our left brain thought, our right brain creativity and the deep love in our heart know that we are here on the planet to help others in whatever way is ours to do. Knowing and honoring our ego helps us to determine what our own unique contribution or contributions to the greater good can be.

So I honor and pay careful attention to my ego. It is part of who I am, and I therefore love it fearlessly and unconditionally. Instead of beating yourself up for having an ego, why don’t you honor and love it instead? You just might discover your own unique gifts to contribute to the world.

When I was constantly judging others I was truly judging me. If another woman was wearing a dress I had, I would invariably conclude that she looked better in it than I did because she was taller or thinner or wore nicer shoes or had a better purse or…. I always sold myself short and made myself feel bad. Occasionally, on the other hand, I would feel momentarily superior because that particular dress fit me better or looked better with my red hair than her light brown or….. However, that rarely lasted, because would notice that she was wearing an adorable pair of earrings that matched the dress perfectly. Being in constant unconscious judgment not only made me feel like I was on an emotional roller coaster that kept me looking outside of myself for validation (or recrimination) of who I was.

Judgment not only affects the way we think about our appearance; it also can determine the way we think about our intelligence, our creativity, our passion. I remember as a young child I used to love to draw and make crafts. Art class was the highpoint of my week; I would get lost in whatever we were creating, and feel positively joyful. But when my project wasn’t selected for display or I didn’t get an “A,” the message was loud and clear – I wasn’t good enough, and soon enough my enthusiasm and joy faded. My love of creating wasn’t rekindled until Jasmine was a toddler and we started to play with Play –Doh. What fun we had, making all kinds of critters and extraordinary things. And of course, they were all extraordinarily beautiful, and got displayed on the mantel.

When we judge the opinions and ideas of others we are limiting our own opportunities for learning and understanding. I grew up listening to rock, classical, and Motown music, and loved it all. I thought country music was unsophisticated and tacky. I went to college in the foothills of the Appalachian mountains, and the country (country-western way back then) station was the default on my roommate’s radio. I developed an appreciation for the simple melodies and wry and clever lyrics. When I heard Lyle Lovett several years later I became (and still am) a huge fan, thanks to my earlier exposure to county music.

Judgment by its very nature is conditional. We are not loving ourselves unconditionally when we stop ourselves from experiencing what we want to do out of fear of being good enough. When I consciously stopped myself from judgment, my world opened exponentially. I will happily dance or draw or be silly in public because I no longer judge myself nor care about the judgment of others. And because I no longer judge others, I can appreciate people for who they truly are. I now have good friends who are twenty years younger than me and fifteen years older, a high school drop-out and a published author, a professional musician and a computer scientist. I am able to see the beauty and love and goodness in each and every one of them because their beauty and love and goodness is totally independent of my own. Because I no longer judge people, I have plenty of time to love them. And to love myself, as well.

Edwene Gaines, who writes on the spiritual laws of prosperity, says that she forgives everybody all the time, especially herself. She asks, “Who have I put outside my heart today?” Then she forgives them all and brings them back into her heart. I now practice this daily, too. And then I forgive myself and bring myself back into my heart as well. When I finish this exercise, I experience an absolutely radiant peace.

It’s necessary to constantly forgive ourselves because we are constantly and often unconsciously telling ourselves that we are not enough, or that everything is our fault. I remember I always used to apologize – if someone bumped into me, I’d say, “I’m sorry.” If a friend or loved one threw a fit, I’d say “I’m sorry.” I’d tell myself “You should have been more careful,” or “That was a stupid thing to do.”

When I removed words like stupid and dumb from my vocabulary and stopped the automatic apologies I felt an immense burden lift from my heart which immediately allowed me to stand up straighter. I felt a surge of love flow from me into the entire world. I realized that carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders just gave me a stiff neck and left me hunched over. Love can’t thrive in or radiate out from a heart that’s imprisoned in a physical slump. Even if you do or say something that in hindsight you wish you hadn’t, accept the lesson in the experience (and there is always a lesson), forgive yourself, and then let it go. Stand up straight.

After you get in the habit of forgiving yourself, forgive any and all of those who have harmed you. I don’t know anyone who has had a perfect family, a perfect relationship, a perfect life – do you? Staying in the pain and limitation of the past is being a victim, and victims are rarely, if ever, happy, loving, or at peace.. Letting go of the pain is immensely freeing, and it allows you to grow up and witness the growth in others as well.

For many years I harbored a deep unhappiness with my family. I was often curt and impatient with them, and family visits would end up in arguments and tears. About fifteen years ago I realized that my parents were human and I stopped blaming them for everything that had happened in my life over the past thirty years or so, and focused on their good. Over the years we developed a very deep and loving relationship, and I am grateful. I was able to witness my father’s growth from a “stiff upper lip” kind of man to someone who cried with happiness, and I’ve got an ongoing appreciation for my mother, her life, her strength. A bonus is my daughter was able to develop an honest and loving relationship with her grandparents.

Building self-love through spiritual forgiveness and releasing my victimhood naturally led me to let go of thoughts that no longer served me. I soon realized that I had to let go of habits and people that no longer served me as well. Coming home from work and mindlessly flipping through TV channels, hanging out with the same people doing the same thing year after year and not really feeling happy is habit. Unexamined habits is laziness, not self-love.

I remember as a young professor being invited to join a crowd of cynical intellectuals. We’d go to a movie and then tear it apart. Go to a concert and complain about it afterward. We’d see a play and then rip it to shreds. For a while I felt very cool and very hip. And then I noticed that I couldn’t enjoy any of the events we were attending; I’d be looking for faults or discrepancies or any other negative thing so that I could take part in the post-mortem conversation instead of being present in the event itself.

Afterwards, when I went home, I never felt relaxed or happy, just a sense of relief that I had survived the evening. It finally dawned on me that these evenings were a colossal waste of money, time, and energy. I stopped hanging out with that crowd, and spent many Saturday nights at home with a good book, and I was all the happier for it. I finally understood that being single and being alone on a Saturday night didn’t mean I was a loser; it meant that I loved and respected myself enough to choose to nourish my heart and my soul. I was able to let go of those past expectations of who and what I was that no longer served me. Living from the heart and in self-love means that you make that kind of choice more often than not. The payoff? A more peaceful and joyful and balanced life.

Most of the time when we talk about how we love someone what we really mean is that we think that that person fills our needs. If we feel lonely and we find someone who likes to hang out with us and do the things we do, we call that love. If we feel unattractive and someone tells us we are beautiful and makes us feel that way, we call that love. If we tend to feel depressed, and someone cheers us up, we call that love. When adults don’t feel needed and have children that depend on them, we call that love, too.

But to me, none of those examples are truly love; they are just examples of perceived needs being met. Confusing having your needs met with love is a reason why relationships don’t last and the divorce rate is so high; as soon as that person fails to meet your needs, you think the love is no longer there. “She doesn’t pay attention to me anymore and doesn’t want to hang out with me.” “He doesn’t tell me I’m beautiful anymore.” “ I just don’t feel the excitement with her anymore, I’m really unhappy in this relationship.” And the empty nest syndrome, simply put, is a parent no longer feeling needed.

A perceived need can never be filled by someone outside of yourself, because it’s not truly a need, it’s a lack of self –knowledge, appreciation, and/or love. And no one but you can fill this lack.

So what is self-love? It begins by recognizing what qualities you really like about yourself, what makes you likable. I can easily write five things I like about my loved ones – Thomas’ sense of humor, thoughtfulness, spirituality, his gentleness, his laugh. Jasmine’s determination, groundedness, passion, affection and gracefulness. Me? Hmmmm, let me think….

Self love is accepting and appreciating everything you are on the outside and the inside right here, right now. It’s accepting your age, your height, your weight, your hair, your teeth, your job, your house, everything. Self-love is realizing that who and what and where you are is just fine. It’s looking in the mirror and seeing my fifty-two year old self looking back and smiling and saying, “Good Morning, Gorgeous!” It’s appreciating my smile, my curves, my good health.

Waiting for a situation to change before you take care of yourself or living your life fully is not only not loving yourself, it’s a phenomenal waste of time. When Prince Charming comes along I’ll be happy, when I get that promotion I’ll be happy, when I lose ten pounds I’ll be happy – all of these are conditions, and any other kind of condition is not love.

Loving yourself doesn’t mean that you don’t change. Loving yourself means you make a conscious choice about who and what you are. Whenever you say “that’s just the way I am” you are limiting yourself. When you are unwilling to think new thoughts, have new experiences, or make new choices, you are denying yourself a chance to learn and expand. Limitation is fear, and fear extinguishes love. Making a conscious choice about who and what you are means that you are constantly and consciously removing fear, lack, limitation and condition from your heart.

When I first started my massage practice eleven years ago I was petrified to network, to talk on the phone, to do any of the activities required to build a business. I had always defined myself as a free-spirit type who had no clue about business. After an event or two I realized that deep inside I felt inferior to all those successful people. I worked to release the limitations of my self-definition. The networking and phone calls became easier, and I built a successful practice, and I actually became friends with those business people I was networking with.

Loving yourself doesn’t mean that your life is perfect, and that all is smooth sailing all the time. The human experience doesn’t seem to work that way. What loving yourself does mean is that no matter how rough the waves get outside, you can easily center yourself in that brightly lit port of self-love in your heart and not let the storm around you toss you around too much. And that leads to a happier and more peaceful life at all times, which is truly a beautiful way to live.

Faith is a word that hasn’t always been a part of my vocabulary. By the time I was twelve I was disillusioned with the church. As I grew up I became an academic, and felt those who had a strong faith were either weak or non-intellectual or both. If man couldn’t prove or at least adequately explain the existence of God, I reasoned, there must not be one. And, further, I thought, if heaven was full of Bible-thumpers and other exclusionists, I didn’t want to be with them throughout eternity anyway. So for most of my life I paid little attention to faith.

I also spent a lot of my life being cynical and unhappy (a badge many academics wear proudly),living in worry, in guilt, sometimes in illness and often in pain. When I was at a particularly low point I read the Dalai Lama’s book The Art of Happiness. It fascinated me, with its emphasis on compassion and presence and detachment and other spiritual ideas. I embraced its concepts slowly — I developed a meditation practice that gave me peace, and I started a new career that required me to be both present and compassionate. I wasn’t looking for enlightenment or connection to God, just relief from the constant worry and unhappiness, and the Dalai Lama’s approach touched me deeply – just look at the man – doesn’t his very spirit embody peace and happiness? So I continued with the practice, and found that when I was meditating or at work I had that peace, but holding onto it outside of those times often proved difficult.

So I deepened my meditation practice and tried to hold onto those feelings throughout the day, along with those concepts of presence and compassion. Thomas, a man who has always had a deep and natural connection to God, came into my life. An absolutely delightful and incredibly witty Unity minister became my client. I got my cosmic two by four that clonked open my metaphysical gifts. And I slowly but surely let go of any remaining cynicism, embraced joy and love, and found faith.

Like any new idea, I investigated this concept of faith deeply. At various times in the past several years I’ve almost withdrawn from the human race, so intensely was I exploring my faith. And the result has been the realization and knowing that God or Spirit or whatever name you’re comfortable with, is not something I have to strive for or reach for or even sacrifice for; it has been within me, in my heart, all along.

This faith helped me help my father explore his own beliefs when he was dealing with his illness, and helped to give him peace. My faith has helped me through the difficulty following his transition. It has helped me stay centered in the midst of financial and personal struggle. It has helped me to listen to and support my family and friends with grace and without judgment. And it has allowed me to witness the miracles and blessings that surround us daily, if we can just be open enough to see and experience and believe them.

Thomas and I have found an amazing spiritual home in Unity in Chicago. Reverend Erica is smart and thoughtful and gives me ideas to ponder throughout the week. The music is absolutely world-class, and my soul flies with each note played and sound sung. The congregation is diverse and happy and supportive, and we’ve made very good friends in the six months we’ve been attending. Our retreat in the Virgin Islands was remarkably successful and we’re eagerly planning our next one in April. Our soup business is growing by leaps and bounds. My practice is expanding, I am starting a radio show in January, and I am finally writing my book with clarity, purpose, and confidence. .

Throughout this crazy year, surprisingly enough, I have been mostly happy and at peace and present and compassionate. So while I certainly won’t be sad to see this year end, I am glad that it has given me the opportunity to truly deepen and live in my faith, and experience the grace, blessings, and miracles it has given me.

At times this holiday season, though, keeping my peace has been a cat and mouse game. When I flew to Florida to pick up Jasmine to drive home with her I bawled like a tired two year old when I walked out from the gate at the airport. I remembered Christmases past, Jasmine and I hurrying from the plane with reindeer antlers on, me clutching her tiny hand as she ran to Grandma and Grandpa, grateful hugs upon our reunion, with my Dad almost always in tears. I saw that scene re-enacted several times as I walked alone towards the exit and my missing of my father grew into a raw pain in my heart.

That pain has come and gone the past few weeks, watching my amazingly strong Mom doing her best to navigate around the holidays without her husband of almost sixty years. She has given us our presents and even picked out a special ornament for Jasmine like she and my father have done since she was three months old. I encourage and support her as much as I can, and we comfort each other in our daily talks. And thankfully, my brother will be with her this year on Christmas, helping to ease some of that loneliness. But her loss and pain is great, and it grieves me to witness it.
I am not so spiritually strong yet to have peace in such pain.

This season, peace has come during times of ritual. I like to Christmas shop in my neighborhood, Lincoln Square, with its charming specialty stores. Cheery conversations with the shop owners and looking over the unimaginable creativity of the inventory brought back a familiar joy. We sang carols in church on Sunday and my soul was soothed with each one. Today TJ and the tweenager did a soup tasting all afternoon, and Jasmine and I were home alone, so the two of us finally decorated the tree and the house.

At first I looked at the process as a project instead of a ritual to be treasured. I tried to hurry it all up with the irritability that takes me over when peace is not around, but Jasmine called me out on it and would not let it stay. She made it clear that this was a special time and grumpiness was not welcome. I settled into the memories and the the presence of the ritual. I felt grateful that my almost completely grown up girl still comes home to decorate the tree with her Momma. We talked about the ornaments and Christmases past, and some of the ups and downs of this year. And I felt the peace within me deepen.

I’ve not always had patience for rituals and traditions, especially when I felt they were performed thoughtlessly or out of obligation. This season I’ve realized the grace in ritual, the contentment of a familiar action in a life that constantly changes. Ritual tells us to pause and honor this moment and its specialness, reminding us that these traditions won’t be back for another year. So I’ll be sure to be fully present with and aware of the rituals of the remainder of the holiday season. They will help me regain my quiet constant communion with Spirit, remind me to appreciate the present, to be grateful for my many blessings, and to let go of what is not mine to carry. And I will be fully at peace. Ahhhhhhh………

Before I was looking for a deeper understanding of Spirit within, I was simply looking for peace. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that peace and worry are diametrically opposed. I had given a great part of my life to worry – worry about money, worry about my future, worry about my child, my career, my family, my love life, my past — worry, worry, worry about anything and everything. In return, worry had given me chronic stomach problems, crazy hormones, insomnia, and a host of other ailments, which allowed me to add my health to my worry list. Worry was an absolute default, a place that my brain returned to at all times. I tried to ignore it and tell myself all was well, or keep myself so incredibly busy that worry didn’t have time to surface. Like any faithful companion, it left me alone during these busy times, but would check up on me when it could. Mostly between two and four am. Nightly. For weeks and months at a time.

I remember many years ago, sitting in my car that wouldn’t start, waiting for AAA to arrive. I worried myself into a frenzy. I had gone from “It’s probably a dead battery” to “maybe it’s a faulty ignition switch” to “it must be a cracked engine” to “oh my God what if I need a new car? I can’t afford a new car!” to me finding a second job to help pay for a new car to my daughter not remembering what I looked like and us having a strained relationship because of my working so much. When AAA arrived, it was a dead battery, which they jump started and I replaced for about sixty dollars.

Eventually I decided to meet worry one-on-one. What exactly was worry? Merriam – Webster defines worry as “to think about problems or fears : to feel or show fear and concern because you think that something bad has happened or could happen.” What a simple yet profound definition. To think about problems or fears because you think something bad could happen. Worry has no action, no solution, no faith, no hope, no belief in the Divine. Worry is just a stuck, overwrought left brain exercise that self-perpetuates into more worry.

The process of letting go of worry was a great practice for spiritual understanding. I first looked at worry and asked how it served me. It basically didn’t — it absolutely paralyzed me. Well then, how could I let it go? I could consider sensible actions and solutions. I made a list, and then did what I could at that moment in time and let go of the fear of the unknown future. When I found myself trying to return to worry, I re-centered totally in the present –I repeated, “Right now, absolutely everything I can do has been done. Right now, everything is fine.” Focusing on the here and now gave me great peace, and allowed me to see the perfection and beauty in each moment, and allowed me a glimpse of Divine Order and Divine Time. It was a wonderful blessing. It led me to gratitude, and the possibility and probability that all is exactly as it was supposed to be. I realized that worry at its best is a forgetting of the presence of Spirit. It is judgmental and uninformed. At its worst it is a denial of the existence of Spirit, a proclamation that I have to think about all the bad stuff and deal with it because I am in control of the universe, or at least my part of it. And I know that this is simply not true.

Now I truly don’t worry. If a situation arises that I am unsure of, I make sure I am as prepared as I can be. If I can do something to change a bad situation I do. I donate. I volunteer. If a situation is beyond the reach of my actions, I pray and send love, peace, and understanding to those in charge. I then repeat one of my favorite mantras – “I do my best and give God the rest.” And then I let it go.

Before we set out on our journey we fixed the car and planned so we wouldn’t be driving at night in inclement weather. We paced our trip and had plenty of warm blankets and provisions. I prayed for the accompaniment of Divine Guidance and joy along the way. We saw Santa buzzing along I-75 in Florida with his gorgeous white beard and his red suit hanging in the back of his Pontiac. Who knew? We saw three bright pink buses with tinted windows and the words “Starlight Astro Skating” on the side; we weren’t fooled, we knew they must have been full of elves. And who did we see getting out of an old Cadillac at a rest area not too far from Nashville? Why Elvis, of course! We had a lovely and blessed trip home.

Instead of worrying about the world and your loved ones this holiday season, why not send them prayers and love instead? You just might contribute to the peace and love and magic of the season. And who knows? You might see Santa, or at least Elvis.

When we were packaging the soups Friday night Thomas and I veered between frustration and boredom; it was too detailed to be mindless, yet too repetitive to be interesting. My fingers got stiff from tying raffia bows just right. We both commented on how much we appreciate the work that the Gateway students do – they layer each ingredient and tie each bow with care. When Thomas stops by with supplies, they always greet him cheerfully, and then the client manager asks the group if they are ready to make soups and they all enthusiastically shout “yeah!” When he picks up the soup it seems each package is beaming with delight.

At the holiday fairs we had a steady stream of people buying our soups. We enjoyed sharing our story, passing along the goodness from beginning to end. At Gateway the students came up with their families to show them their work. They all waved and said, “Hi, Thomas!” when they saw him. The staff at Gateway sent people over to our table, and everyone asked about our story and bought a lot soup. My heart swelled to see the pride and joy of the students, and to see everyone be so supportive. There was a young man who was happy to be able to have a gift for a vegan he knew, and a woman who didn’t cook but was holding a holiday get-together. It made my heart happy to know that my soup was providing not only a good meal but also an easing of holiday pressure.

At the tasting, people liked the soup, too, and one woman bought an entire case for stocking stuffers and hostess gifts. At the church fair everyone who had heard our story or had tasted our soup stopped by and offered support and bought soup. The whole weekend was truly amazing, and my heart was filled with joy.

I never thought of a soup business as a calling in my life. But from its inception to its present incarnation it has been magical. I can remember throughout my life whenever I was under stress or had something to ponder or just wanted to provide support for a loved one and didn’t know what else to do I would make soup. Jasmine always loved soup, and I was glad to feed her something healthy. My father was a soup lover, too, and I remember making soup for him when he was very ill, couldn’t have any sodium in his diet, and was on a fluid restriction as well. I packed that soup with as much nutrition and flavor and love as possible and as little broth as I could. In fact, it was a little too rich for him and he could only eat a few spoonfuls, but he certainly appreciated the effort. I’ve always made soup from my heart, and it gives me great pleasure to think that on a freezing cold night (like this one!) that people are eating our soup and having their hearts warmed, too.

Right now, my feelings are a little bittersweet because I so wish my father were here to see our success. I want to pick up the phone and have him ask me “How’s business?” like he always did. I want him to hear me exclaim “It’s going great!” instead of the quiet “I’m hanging in there.” that I said for the year or so preceding his transition. Yet I know he knows; I can feel his encouragement and excitement and almost hear his “Atta Girl, Cindy!” And I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a hand in some of the miracles surrounding our business, too; after all, he’s forever a part of my heart. For that understanding, and for all the love and goodness this business provides for us and for others, I am souper grateful.

I first tried out the word balance. I got a picture of me on a red and green ball in a three-ring circus juggling Christmas cookies… hmmm, not the image I was looking for. How about grounded? That sounds too much like “reality,” and one of the joys of the season is the magic of elves and angels. Then I thought of centered. I saw me moving through the season at the right speed, centered in the right thoughts, centered in Spirit, centered in my heart. Yes, centered is the right heartword.

I had my first practice on Thanksgiving. After some confusion we settled on us having Thanksgiving at our house. I scheduled dinner a couple hours later than I usually do so I didn’t have to fret over time. Instead of freaking out about how we were going to get all the people in our little condo, I decided to move the table in a different direction and voila! Seating for all. The kitchen had become soup business central, and all that got temporarily stored. A beautiful bouquet of festive flowers and all was simply well. Jasmine and I had fun prepping and cooking and chatting, and the timing of all the cooking was amazingly well-orchestrated. Because I was centered and calm and happy, all could feel centered and calm and happy. We had a delicious dinner and a nice visit, and I was tired but not exhausted at the end of the day. Centered felt right.

My second practice was on Black Friday. I’d only done Black Friday once before, and had hated every minute of it. I had been overwhelmed by the noise, all the people, all the rudeness, all the franticness, and swore that I would never do it again. But Jasmine saw some deals on a coat and some sweaters at Old Navy that were too good to pass up, and she would be home this January and needed some warmer clothes, so I agreed to go.

When we walked in the store, I felt my blood pressure rise with all the noise, all the people, all the disarray… but I took a deep breath and centered myself. Since I willingly decided to come, I could willingly enjoy it, too! We looked at the coats, got just the right one, got the sweaters, too, and figured since we were already in the thick of it, why not go through the whole store? Which we did, and we found some more amazing deals. I actually had fun! We went over to the line to pay for our bounty, and found it to be waaayyyyyyy long. My head started whirling – I was hot and tired and more than ready to leave – but I took a deep breath and centered myself again, and was able to appreciate the order of it all. The line snaked around smoothly, and soon enough we were at the checkout, cheerfully being rung up. This centered idea worked.

So now I’m centering myself before picking and choosing all my holiday events. The tree did not get set up Thanksgiving weekend like it usually does –we spent the day relaxing and recuperating instead. I’ll go to one or two business networking events instead of trying to hit them all. We’ll spend some time with some new like-minded church friends rather than attend a huge annual party that’s more a habit than a happiness. And I’ll carve out some one on one time with every member of my family, to share the enjoyment and holiness of the season. And I will be joyful and grateful and centered in it all.

I was stunned and more than a little dismayed. I channel from time to time, but it hadn’t been a focus of my work. I was apprehensive if the boy would come through after such a recent transition, and if he did, how he would feel. I get a lot of my psychic information empathically, which means that I feel the emotion or feeling first, and I was worried that Eddie would still be in the pain of transition. How overwhelmingly sad this all seemed to me. I couldn’t imagine the pain and loss this family was experiencing.

But I reasoned that if I wasn’t able to help her she wouldn’t have come to me, so I smiled and said we’d give it a try. We invited Eddie to join us and I immediately felt a flutter up and down my spine and a joyful, loving lightness that could only be described as angelic. Eddie had a lot to say to his Mom and I had a hard time speaking as fast as he did. He was funny and charming and made it very clear to his Mom why he had chosen to transition when he did. His Mom asked for messages for his friends and his sister and he rattled them off one by one. He was generous and thoughtful and kind and absolutely amazing. When we were done I felt so incredibly honored to have been the instrument of this communication.

A few days later his Dad came to see me and talk to Eddie, too. Eddie’s energy felt different this time, richer, warmer, a little denser. Eddie’s conversation with his father was deeper, a little more serious, but he was still full of love and very generous and thoughtful and kind and absolutely amazing. Eddie’s Dad felt much, much better after our session, and I felt truly honored again to be able to be the vessel of this communication, and to blessed to experience the remarkable Eddie.

I am glad that when transitioned souls come in when I’m working they present themselves as being at the time of their human life when they were at their best – their happiest, their strongest, their most joyful. I don’t usually see or experience them in their suffering or weakness, and I’m grateful for that, as are the people I am channeling for. These experiences with Eddie have allowed me to see that we at the heart of us, the soul of us, we are all truly energetic beings.

The law of conservation of energy states that energy can neither be created nor destroyed: it can only be transformed from one state to another. When we experience our loved ones who have passed, we experience them in a changed energetic state. This changed state is a nonphysical one, but it is certainly as real as the bodies we knew them in. Eddie presented to his Mother as a joyful angel because that is his relationship with her. He presented in a warmer, denser form to his father because that is his relationship with him. In both cases he was one hundred percent Eddie.

As always, the gift of my gift to me is that in every experience I learn and heal as well. Since I was a child I have felt uncomfortable with the personification of God and Angels and even loved ones who have passed. As I got older I understood that we as humans need to see these entities as human so that we can relate to them better. Unfortunately, in the process we have also dumped our human limitations on them as well. We often envision God or our ancestors as being judgmental and conditional in their love. We depict ghosts and those who have died as sad or angry, destructive, fearsome and revengeful; we let our own misconceptions and fears cloud and influence our true communication with this all-encompassing loving energy.

This initially happened to me as well; in my totally human left-brain head I was only able to feel apprehension about working with Eddie and his family; I was totally caught up in the physical tragedy and loss and fear. And many of my clients have come to me full of remorse or guilt or misunderstanding surrounding their loved ones who have passed, too. And like Eddie, almost always the loved ones communicate that they feel nothing but love and appreciation for those who are still here and want to help guide them in any way they can. Once these loved ones are free of human limitation and are part of the greater energy, they truly present as divine love.

This Thanksgiving I’m going to take a moment and express gratitude for all of those I know who have transitioned this year (there have been many.) I will give a special thank you to Eddie, who has allowed me to truly know and experience that divine spark in each of us that absolutely transcends time and space.

It has been a roller coaster of a year. Disappointment when a shared space didn’t work out, and much gladness when I was led to a new place that did. Much sadness about my father’s death and my mom’s subsequent difficulties, but happiness in the deepening of my daughter and mother’s relationship, and the new friends I’ve met this year. It’s been a harrowing year financially, and now there is the amazing and ever growing success of our soup business. I have undergone huge spiritual shifts that have at times been uncomfortable physically, mentally, and emotionally, but which I’m now extremely grateful for. So this birthday was a chance to just relax and see the manifestation of it all…

Saturday I gave readings at the Chicago area ARE’s (Edgar Cayce’s Association for Research and Enlightenment) Holistic Fair. I do this fair quarterly, and feel honored to have been chosen to participate. But usually when I wasn’t working, I’d fret about whether I had done a good job, whether that person would become a client, etc.,etc., etc. I’d chat with the other healers and volunteers, and gladly so, but rarely with full engagement. Saturday I kept in mind the idea of Divine Order and Divine Time, and took the opportunity to truly talk to several of the people I had just superficially talked to before. I looked at each person who came to me as a divine meeting, each conversation as a divine appointment. This naturally led me to be completely present, and so all my readings went extremely well, and in between I had some great conversation, and the day passed smoothly and pleasantly. Happy Birthday to me!

Sunday we officially became members of Unity in Chicago, an extremely dynamic, light-filled church. During the service I felt such gratitude to be there, grateful for the special community of like-minded souls, many of whom were already friends, grateful for the overall positivity of the congregation and their support of our business venture, and grateful that Thomas and I shared the same spiritual path. Tears sprang to my eyes more than once during this service, tears of gratitude and spiritual joy. Happy Birthday to me!

Sunday evening Thomas and I went to dinner to a new restaurant to celebrate. We had spent Saturday evening on the internet, looking for someplace special but reasonably priced. We decided on Palette Bistro. It was a beautiful and romantic place, with absolutely delicious food and impeccable service. We had a leisurely meal, talking and laughing and sharing. It was a remarkable date, and after four years, I still feel like pinching myself to make sure this unbelievable relationship I’m in isn’t a dream. Happy Birthday to me!

Yesterday, my actual birthday, I did very little. I decided that what I really wanted to do was be a slug, guilt-free. I read, I chilled, I accomplished the two things that were imperative to do, and checked in on my facebook page. I was stunned and pleased with the outpouring of wishes, from new friends, from newly-renewed high school friends, from church friends, from Jasmine’s friends, and on and on. I was present enough with all of it to feel truly grateful and blessed. And then I received a package in the mail, with a beautiful handmade necklace from Jasmine , and handmade cards not only from Jasmine, but her roommates as well. Thomas came home with flowers, and cooked our favorite celebratory dinner of crab legs and champagne. It was an absolutely perfect day. Happy Birthday to me!

It turned out that presence was the perfect present. Presence gave me the ability to see, feel, and experience all the blessings and love and joy and wonder that is my life. Happy Birthday to me!!!

When we got outside Joan noticed the bead store across the street and eagerly suggested we stop in. Of course, we couldn’t refuse her, and so we did. Joan looked around and found an interesting craft that she was brimming over with ideas about. When we left that store, she noticed a huge guitar store on the other side of the street. Her partner played guitar, so of course we’d stop by there, too, wouldn’t we? And so we did, and were amazed at the huge collection of all kinds of guitars, beautifully displayed, with prices upwards of several thousand dollars and more. It was like a museum!

Further down the street was a tile store, already closed, but Joan gazed in the window like a kid at a Christmas display, bursting with creative ideas. It was a joy exploring with her – if I had been on my own, I’m sure I would have hurried by all those shops, not realizing the adventures within.

When we were settled in at the table we talked about spiritual gifts. Joan’s partner is a very knowledgeable and gifted massage therapist and healer, and Joan and I had had a powerful session. We talked about other friends we knew who were spiritual seekers. Joan then commented how she felt so lucky to have so many spiritually advanced friends, because she saw herself as “regular.”

I was stunned. Regular? With that infectious joy and creativity? With her ten-plus year commitment to Unity in Chicago, one of the most spiritually advanced churches I’d ever been in? It had taken me several years to be able to join the unbelievably dynamic energy there. With her insatiable quest for knowledge and spiritual wisdom? With her incredible life story, including being adopted and then having both of her parents die when she was young? She was so strong and extraordinarily generous and did I mention, sixty-five years old? Regular? Really?

This really struck a chord with me. Before I found peace, and unconditional love for myself, and acceptance of my gift, I had spent (way too) many years trying to be “regular (though I had used the word “normal”).” I desperately wanted to be someone who just wanted to go to work, spend time with family, watch crime dramas on TV during the week and football on Sunday. I always failed miserably, believing I was a freak, not believing I would ever be happy or satisfied. The pleasure in that life eluded me. It took me many years to realize that I would never be “normal.” It took me several more years to realize that that whole idea of normal was my own delusion anyway.

The idea of normal or regular is limiting at its best and judgmental at its worst. It implies a conformity and a commitment to a status quo that is more media-made than based on the way we truly live our lives. When we look at others and call them “normal” we are making a superficial judgment of the way that they appear to us. When we look at ourselves that way, we are denying ourselves of our amazing potential to experience all that we are capable of. In all cases it is denying the distinctive spirit and light that each and every one of us is.

I think of our mail carrier who has a genuine warmth for everyone on her route, who never fails to ask us about both girls, whether they are with us or not. I’ve seen her put a package on the top of her pouch so that my anxious young neighbor is reassured that it is in good hands. I think of the young man at the seven-eleven who always sings quietly to himself in such a captivating voice that I linger around the counter longer than I have reason to. I think of the dozens of clients I have had over the years who have on the surface seemed “regular;” yet in truth, none of them have been. They have all provided me with insight and a good story, and have shown me the true beauty and uniqueness that each of us has. It’s one of the greatest gifts of my work.

So sorry, Joan, but no, you’re not regular. You’re a remarkable woman who I’m blessed to know. And I am sure that if each of us made a little effort to let go of the normal in ourselves and our neighbors we’d be astounded to find how special we all are. And that is the true gift from Spirit and a very beautiful and uplifting thing indeed.

Yet it took me a while to say yes to her – how could she be digging me so much when she doesn’t even know me? How do I know that I’ll be successful here? I spent a lot of time last week slumming in powerful old emotions that I was sure that I had rid myself of. I looked at a couple more places, none exactly what I was looking for…

I realized that I had fallen back into that old left-brain thinking trap of looking at the past to predict the future. I was thinking that this new situation was too good to be true. My head was conjuring up all kind of events in the past where similar situations hadn’t worked out, and all the “rational” naysayers telling me not to expect so much because you basically can’t trust people and they are only out for themselves Since this type of thinking had been a habit for forty years or so, it was mighty and destructive, narrowing my thought into a dark tunnel…

Somehow I was able to lift my head up long enough to remember that I had new understandings and ways to go beyond the dark cloud. It was truly time again to practice what I teach…. The forgiveness exercise had worked so well recently that I started again with that. I started writing “I, Cynthia, forgive myself completely.” Instead of stopping at thirty five times, I went on to the next person, and the next, and the next, and the next, and the next. I forgave people I didn’t even know I was still holding on to, and was able to grab the lesson to boot. Over two hundred sentences I wrote, and I felt my heart expand out, and out, and out, until I was absolutely floating on a cloud of love. Amazing!

Mahatma Gandhi said, “Forgiveness is choosing to love. It is the first skill of self-giving love.” In some ways I wish I had fully understood the truth and beauty of this earlier, but I know that all is in Divine Order and Divine Time. Because of all the work I have done in the past I am now able to appreciate this remarkable opportunity. Opening up my heart put my left brain thinking back in balance, which allowed my creative mind (right brain thinking) to open up to a whole scheme of decorating and promotional ideas. I now can feel the healing and success that we will have in this new place, not to mention the camaraderie and love that will be shared between like-minded healers. It truly is a prayer answered, and I’m grateful that I am now able to see and feel it as the divine gift that it is.

What a powerful reminder to be still. I sat and thought for a moment, and realized how in the past few days I had fallen unconsciously back into the habit of frantic busyness. It was a familiar but no longer welcome feeling. I had had this feeling all through grad school when I was working on my Ph.D., when I started my own massage practice, at any time when I felt a desperate, fearful need to accomplish. At best this busyness kept me from enjoying the ride, and at its worst, made me physically ill. This certainly was not where I wanted to go now.

So I consciously took some deep breaths, visualized myself on Honeymoon Beach on Water Island in the USVI with the waves gently lapping my toes, and then I went deep into my heartspace – aahhhhh… I reflected for a while. How grateful I am to have these tools to help center myself! I then realized how I had been too caught up in the busyness to pay attention to the signs I’d been receiving.

I found that my heartword for most of the year, expansive, now felt integrated in my system. Our new church, Unity in Chicago, certainly was expansive, and Reverend Erica often talks and teaches on this idea. The cruise had given me the reality of expansiveness first-hand. This chunk by chunk whittling away of the lack that had permeated my life was bearing fruit – the astounding success of the soups, my finally finding a space in the city, the coming together of all my spiritual understanding and work in my recent Heart-Mind Reunion Workshop and Meditation class that all participants had found worthwhile. What a whole bunch of blessings that I had been way too busy to fully experience!

I remembered how at the end of last week a new heartword had come into my consciousness – joy. When I thought about that word, it seemed right. I have peace, contentment, love, even a fundamental happiness – but joy? Not so much! What did joy feel like? A champagne-like bubbling up of the heart that ended in at least a big smile and hopefully a belly laugh. When talking to Thomas about this he immediately challenged me to a Cherry Coke burping contest — what more of a bubbling up could I ask for? Not my usual drink (it’d been years since I’d touched the stuff), and certainly not our usual form of entertainment, but why not? And our attempts did have us laughing out loud (I’m not going to say who won.)

How easy it is to get caught up in the busyness that impedes upon our joy. I had been crabby, pushing myself and Thomas a lot more than necessary. I understand that it really is fine to just stay centered in ourselves and our world and let all these blessings to continue to flow through to us. Isn’t joy what true spirituality is? Being grateful and amazingly happy for the right here, right now?

The electricity just came back on. First an apology to Thomas and then some more forgiveness of myself. We might even have a bottle of champagne (or maybe at least some Cherry Coke) in the fridge. That should totally clear the way for an absolutely joyful evening! Aaahhhhhh ….

I’ve struggled with prosperity my whole life. I’ve always had just enough to pay my bills and any extra went on a credit card, so the cycle was always repeating itself. I feel absolutely abundant in most parts of my life; financial prosperity is the final frontier. While listening to Edwene I felt several cosmic thwacks upside my head. One that resonated most deeply was “Financial debt is a socially acceptable way to punish yourself.” Wow. And ouch. Don’t I love myself unconditionally and fearlessly? Isn’t that what my work is all about? Well, yes, but have I forgiven myself completely? I thought that I had…

But since those words touched me to the very core, I clearly had some more work to do. In reflection, I realized that I’ve never really had a clear understanding for the concept of forgiveness. I’ve used it to explain the possible reasons why something happened, offering an apology and/or a blessing, and then letting it go. In a rational, logical way, this works. In a spiritual way, it’s superficial. Edwene said that she forgives everybody all the time, especially herself. She asks, “Who have I put outside my heart today?” Hmmmm, well, the rude driver who cut me off in traffic was certainly outside my heart today. As was the surly cashier at the grocery store. And Thomas, when he didn’t do what I clearly know is the best thing for him to do. Ouch. I forgave them all and brought them back into my heart. And then I forgave myself and brought myself, humbled, back into my heart as well. Ah ha! This is what forgiveness felt like! What an absolutely radiantly peaceful feeling it was.

Edwene said that to really put forgiveness on the fast track, write the sentence “I, your name, forgive ____completely. “ seventy times a day for a week, for as many weeks as you have people to forgive. Although I’m sure I’ll have a list to go through, it felt right to start with myself. When I wrote that sentence thirty-five times on Sunday morning it felt like spring cleaning. Little dust balls and cobwebs of things I have said or done that didn’t honor my integrity or my truth came flying up to the surface — white lies and gossip, and events from the distant past. After I was done it felt like I had been internally power washed; I felt positively glowing.

Sunday evening after I wrote the other thirty five I felt deep peace and love again. While things came up, they were more like little moths that just fluttered away. My dreams that night were scattered and littered with memories and thoughts from just about every stage in my life, times where I had assumed guilt for situations that had nothing to do with me. I realized that feeling guilty had been my emotional default. So much guilt had been raised I had difficulty waking yesterday, and had to lay in bed for a while before I was able to get up.

Even though I was groggy, I grabbed a cup of coffee and started writing that sentence thirty five times again. I felt guilt fall away like the leaves on the trees outside my window. I realized how holding on to that guilt was like putting a lid on a candle –it extinguished the light and the beauty of prosperity and growth within me. It didn’t matter whether that guilt was rational or logical or even mine to have – I had owned it. Telling myself that it was all resolved and thinking it through hadn’t removed the feeling. Heartfelt forgiveness did.

And then a truly prosperous thing happened yesterday evening. Thomas had been shopping our soups around to local groceries and markets – we already had a small boutique grocery on board. At about seven p.m. we got an email from the buyer of a local chain. She asked for distributor pricing because the owner had tasted our soup and wanted to carry it in all seven of their stores!

I wrote the other thirty five sentences again before bed last night and felt a strength and clarity of purpose that I had never felt before. Last night I slept more deeply and soundly than I can remember, and woke up joyfully. As I wrote out the thirty five sentences this morning, I felt my heart sing, truly looking forward to all that is mine to do today without the burden of guilt or any other negative feeling clogging up my flow of Divine Light. I’m so grateful for my understanding of forgiveness; that forgiveness, like every other feeling, thought, and idea we have, has the truest significance when it comes from the heart.

After I met with the astrologer a week and a half ago, I did a trade with another Reiki practitioner. I was telling her about how the office space I was looking at just didn’t work out. She told me that her office was located further down the street near the train and bus stops. She said that the building was full of small offices and practitioners who are looking to rent their spaces one or two days a week for a very reasonable cost. This was great news; a lot of my city clients use public transportation, and it was also convenient to my house. I made a sign for her to post, and she said it shouldn’t be long until I hear from someone. This is a perfect example of Divine Time.

I thought then about Divine Order. Looking back at the experience at the office space I had wanted and where the homeless woman was, I was amazed at how the universe came together to teach me my lesson. I had rescheduled with the real estate agent several times, and if I had met him in the originally scheduled location and time, I wouldn’t have run into that homeless woman, and probably would have convinced myself to take that space.

I wondered about how this Divine Order worked for the realtor and the homeless woman, too. I know that when I got behind the homeless woman to pick her up, Divine Love and Reiki energy just poured from my heart into the back of her heart chakra. Maybe me being there to help her get up gave her the boost she needed to continue. I don’t know what the possible lesson for the realtor was; maybe he needed to check the security of his building. Whatever the reasons, I am amazed at how the universe orchestrates so that we all have the opportunity to learn. Divine Order!

This weekend, both of our girls were here. Nadia had a soccer tournament and came up with all of her soccer gear, a book bag full of texts and homework, and all the trappings of a seventh grader. Jasmine arrived for fall break with a crammed suitcase full of clothes, and an equally heavy backpack. The bedroom is already cluttered with furniture and stuff, and neither girl was happy about the lack of space. Nadia had a meltdown with TJ, primarily due to exhaustion and hormones. I talked to Jasmine about it, and she had a meltdown of her own.

Jasmine told me a lot about feelings she’s carried since she was the age Nadia is now, feelings she’s never shared with me before. It was hard for me to listen to, since the burden she was carrying was solely my fault; I had spent a lot of her youth in a horrible relationship that she had born the brunt of. I remember talking to her often during those times, and after we talked, she would say she was fine and go back to being her mature self.

Jasmine told me the other night how she felt she never really had a choice but to be mature, and that it had been hard and unfair. At this point in my life, I could hear her, really hear her, and not be consumed by so much guilt and remorse that I couldn’t communicate. I told her again how sorry I really was, and I told her I wouldn’t be so demanding of her when she was home for her breaks. And I finally understood this part of her, and why, even though she always did it, it was sometimes difficult for her to take the high road.

We were also able to talk deeper than that. Together were able to explore how those feelings of unfairness and frustration didn’t really serve her anymore, and she was no longer a twelve year old girl with too much responsibility. We talked about how even though it was unfair for her to have to feel the need to be so mature at that time, she really was that mature, and she had been that way practically from the time she was born. We talked about the gift of this experience, how she was always able to do her difficult homework, plus work, plus be the sounding board for most of her friends, and handle this all very well. We talked about how her maturity prevented her from doing all the stupid things many of her peers did, and how her maturity would allow her to be a very successful neurosurgeon. Although this talk was painful for us both, we both felt better afterwards.

If Nadia and Jasmine both hadn’t been exhausted and had their meltdowns, if I had been in a sound sleep instead of a fitful one when Jasmine came home that night, if I hadn’t been able to lovingly detach from my own emotions and her suffering, we wouldn’t have been able to really talk and come to these deeper understandings in which we both felt better. Divine Order…

Jasmine and I spent the next day together walking around and talking at the Lincoln Park Zoo. We revisited pleasant childhood memories at the zoo, and both of us immensely enjoying the closeness and love we have always shared. The day was a very pleasant reminder of the power of Divine Order and Divine Time…

About a month ago I saw a place I thought would be fine, close to home and reasonably priced. I decided to see if I could save enough money for the first and last month’s rent, and sure enough, I did. I met with the realtor on Monday to look at the space one more time and sign the contract. I was feeling just a little funny about it, and meditated, but because it was something I wanted so badly, I wasn’t getting a clear message. Before I left the house I gave it up to my guides and said, “If this is not mine to have, please let me know, and make it obvious enough for me to get it.” I knew I might have a tough time paying attention.
When I walked into the building I was hit with a musty odor. Not really pleasant, but I rationalized that it was an older building and the office I was looking at had a window that I could open. I passed by other offices and a couple of them had weird chemical-like smells coming out of them. Oh well, I thought, maybe that’s how they are dealing with the musty smell. I turned the corner to the office and the realtor wasn’t there. I figured he must have thought we would meet in the lobby, so I turned around and walked back that way.

He was waiting in the lobby, so I shook his hand and we made our way back to the office. When we turned the corner there was a homeless woman crouching in the hall by the restroom. She asked for help in getting up. The realtor bent over to help her, but he was elderly, and she was not small. I had visions of them both toppling over, so I told him to step aside, that I could lift her by myself. When I got near her I almost gagged –she smelled like it had been several years since she had had the chance to clean herself. After I pulled her up I noticed her pants were around her ankles. She pulled them up and quickly left. The realtor and I both asked her if we could help her, but she didn’t acknowledge either one of us. I pushed on the door of the restroom to go in and wash my hands, but it was locked — I suddenly realized why she smelled so bad and why her pants were down…

The realtor was stunned. He couldn’t figure out why she was in there. I couldn’t figure out how she got there in the three minutes it had taken me to walk from the office to the lobby and back. The realtor shook his head and said to me, “That’s not a very welcoming sign, is it?” Well, no… I’d like to think I immediately got that that was my obvious sign, but it actually didn’t dawn on me until I got back home. I didn’t feel too bad, because I knew if Spirit gave me such a huge sign, it wasn’t the right space for me, and I knew something better would turn up soon. Divine Order and Divine Time…

Two days later I met with Lisa, an amazingly gifted astrologer, to find the best days for us to have our retreat next winter. I told her that eventually we wanted to open up a retreat center in the USVI and live there. We were finishing up when I told her about the difficulty I was having finding an office, and asked her when I would get it. She looked at me and said “That’s why the space isn’t here.” She jumped and said, “Wow, I just saw that clearly in my head!” She eagerly looked back at my chart and said, “No wonder — four of your major planets are in the house of your home. You need to do your work AT home, not NEAR your home.”
That felt amazingly right, but I don’t have space in my little condo. In the back of my mind and definitely in my heart I’ve been thinking of selling it for a while, and renting a bigger space near the lake until it’s time for us to move to the USVI or wherever it is we’re supposed to be. And if I find the right place, we could even hold retreats here in Chicago until we move…

Anyone want to buy a sweet little vintage condo in Lincoln Square? It truly is a lovely place…

Last week I went through one of those big shifts – sleepless nights, hypersensitive days, emotional and physical extremes – and all the time, I heard the refrain from #9 dream running in the back of my mind, soothing me… so when I was contemplating a blog for this week, I wasn’t too surprised when “A Little Help from my Friends” popped in my head. So today, I’m honoring three very good friends who have supported me on this journey, who have helped my limiting intellectual brain to expand into receiving and working with my gifts.

I had lunch with Cara, the other day. When we were done, she asked me what I had planned for the rest of the day, and I hemmed and hawed, thinking of the endless list of projects I am constantly working on. It was a beautiful day, and I could see her disappointment. I thought of what a great friend she has been over the years, and how we really didn’t get to spend much time together, so I quickly backtracked and said I’d love to hang out with her.

We had a great conversation driving around – I am so proud of all her dedication to the spiritual, emotional, mental, and physical work she has done in order to have a healthy family and a successful business, and I am grateful for all her support and understanding of my work as well. We are both doing now what we couldn’t even have imagined in the past, and her steadiness, honesty, and love for me has been unwavering. While we are in many ways polar opposites, we see it more as a yin and yang – we respect each other and deeply value each others’ opinions. We went to a soap shop that she had been trying to get me to for over a year. It was a lovely shop, full of treasures. We sniffed and explored, and found a print that absolutely embodied the message of my business and my life. She bought it as my birthday present, even though my birthday is a couple of months away. It was a perfect, rejuvenating afternoon.

Aimee is a young woman who I’ve known since we were both newly-minted massage therapists. When she started showing an interest in energy healing, I dismissed it as hocus pocus. She still gets a kick out of teasing me about it! When my previous office situation didn’t turn out, she welcomed me to practice out of her beautiful space. Aimee is very generous and a natural networker who has introduced me to countless interesting people. She’s also very down to earth. At the end of a busy week last week I drove back home, couldn’t find my purse, forgetful of countless other little and not-so-little things. I whipped myself into a frenzy that put me even further into the stratosphere. Aimee has a wicked sense of humor, and she could have teased me mercilessly; instead, she let me know that the purse was safe in the office, and helped me figure out where I left a check. She patiently and non-judgmentally helped me return to the planet.

Suzy has been my dearest friend since college. She has always had my back, been by my side, and honored the way I’ve lived. She has given her opinion when asked, but doesn’t judge when I’ve made my own poor choices. Being with her is always, always, a peaceful place. Last night she texted me late, asking if it was okay to talk. I immediately called her, and we talked about what was troubling her, me giving her the spiritual advice and understanding she asked for, sending her all the love I possibly could.

She called this morning to thank me for all the love I sent and to share some exciting news – she had been telling her physical therapist all about me, and the PT said that her boss was very involved in energy work and knew all the healers on the island (and then some!) After her session, Suzy talked to the boss and sung my praises. She was sure that when I returned to St. Thomas in March for our retreat, there would be plenty of opportunities for me to meet with these people and do other work there as well…

I honor these three women. Cara has been the voice of openness and business acumen. Aimee has been a spiritual yet totally human connection for me. Suzy is truly my soul sister, eagerly supporting and participating in every turn of my life. They’ve all been my guinea pigs and believed in the power of my healing gifts before I fully could. They have helped me to not only get by but also to thrive. These three friends have given me much more than a little help, and for that I am truly grateful.

We were driving on a busy road with a big truck next to us when we hit the same pothole not once, but twice. Two blown unfixable tires and no Reiki circle. I was immediately distressed. I had been having a great week, busy enough, thinking maybe I could take a financially-sound deep breath. And then this. It always seems like there’s one more thing that keeps us from moving comfortably ahead.

Thomas pulled onto a side street and called AAA. I called my friend who was holding the circle. She sent condolences and said that they would send us Reiki. I stood beside the car and looked around to find my grateful.

It was a lovely evening, a gentle breeze blowing, a beautiful pink and yellow sky. I kicked off my shoes and stood in the grass, happy we could pull over on a side street with trees and plenty of green grass to tickle my toes. I took a deep breath and felt a wave of peace and love flow over me, and sent a silent thank-you back to the Reiki group.

AAA said it could be up to an hour and a half before the tow truck arrived, but as soon as Thomas hung up the phone, the towing company called. Thomas had called the garage to leave a message and the owner, who rarely works past five, was there. Thomas told him what happened, and he agreed to stay a little longer. Within fifteen minutes the truck arrived, and what a truck it was! A huge, shiny, flat-bed truck with hundreds of lights, driven by an extremely polite and energetic young man who had the car loaded up on the bed and ready to roll in about five minutes.

Robert invited us up in the cab and volunteered to take us home after we dropped the car off. He asked if we were settled in comfortably before we drove off. The inside of the cab was so clean and orderly it almost sparkled. He mentioned how grateful he was to have a job, and how much he enjoyed working with this company because it treated folks fairly and with integrity. He clearly took pride in his work.

He was such a genuinely happy soul that it was a pleasure to ride with him. He talked about how his fiancée tends to worry too much and he has to remind her that right now everything is pretty darn good. When I asked him about the difficulties of his job, he told us about the heartbreak of horrific car crashes, but in those situations he did his work with honor and then let it go, trusting that the Universe would take care of it all. He asked if we were satisfied with our mechanic, because he liked to have some trustworthy referrals for his customers. He pointed out the little restaurants that had the best tacos and the best breakfasts. As we drove down Lawrence Avenue, one of the most congested and frustrating streets in the entire city of Chicago, Robert calmly and graciously allowed cars to turn left or join the flow of traffic.

I actually enjoyed sitting way up high in the cab, listening to Robert’s stories and watching the bustle of my city below; the ride literally gave me a new perspective. Robert lives fully in the present, lets go of the unpleasantries of life, and passes on good news freely and easily. I realized that it didn’t take a big life to live happily, authentically, and spiritually. Robert truly was a tow truck angel.

After we dropped the car off and were saying thank you and goodbye, Robert gave us a huge smile and said he wished all his customers were so understanding and nice, that many of them are impatient and rude to him because they are so upset. We told him that as soon as we got in the house, we’d call AAA and tell them what a great job he did, which we did.

When I sat and thought over the evening I was extremely grateful. Grateful yes, for how smoothly an unfortunate experience was resolved. In the past I would have been moaning and groaning and whining “why me?” I wouldn’t have been able to appreciate any of the evening, and possibly even snarled at Robert, like many of his other customers do. Instead, I could see the beauty of Robert, the truck, the evening, and the serendipity of all that transpired after the initial shock. I smiled and realized that what I was truly most grateful for was the ability to see the gift in it all.

Selfishly, I hoped she would study marine science. We could then live somewhere tropical together, snorkeling and having fun. I knew that being a doctor was hard, and would preclude her from having a “normal” life.

I’ve learned a lot from her these past couple years. While in college in Florida, she always drove down to stay in the hospital when her Grandpa was admitted, and tag-teamed with my mother until I could come down and help. She shadowed two surgeons, one a neurosurgeon, and told me that the OR was where she was most at peace. When her personal life was turned upside down and both of her grandpas died, she was present and responsible and soldiered on, doing her best to help others and keep up with her own studies, too, This young woman is strong.

I don’t know why I was set on her having a “normal life.” I certainly never had one! And so even though it took me a while to truly accept her path as her own, I honor it… I wrote this last Thanksgiving. I’m repeating it again because it so expresses all that she is to me.

When I think about the one thing I am most grateful for, the one thing that has given me more joy and hope and love, and opportunity for growth than I could have ever imagined, leads me to one person — my beloved daughter Jasmine. Here is my love letter of gratitude to her.

Baby Girl,
When you arrived all cranky and I held you, I didn’t know quite what to think. ” I’m not so sure what to do,” I told you, “but I promise I’ll do my best, and we’ll have a great adventure.”

The adventure began right away. You did not act like I expected you to. Sleep like a baby? Nope! Eat on a schedule? Nope! To you, eating and sleeping equaled surrender. Such stubbornness, such strength. Such exhaustion on my part. But I remember one moonlit night, standing on the front lawn barefoot in my nightgown, warm breeze, air heavy with tropical scents, your eyes at 2:30 bright as 8:00 am, me trying to figure out a way to get you to just sleep. I shifted you in my arms and held you up and you literally reached for the stars. And suddenly time stood still. The world was absolutely perfect and the way it was supposed to be, every sound, sight, scent was bathed in this quiet perfect love. You gave me presence that day, and I thank you.

You also gave me fearlessness. Whenever we set off on a new adventure you’d look in my eyes and I would smile and you would relax and know everything would be fine. And so it was. We moved to Columbus and then to Chicago and wherever we were it was home. We had our routine that comforted us both, the lullabies and stories, the snuggling. The sharing of our days. I would listen to you and you would ask, “What do you think?” And I would tell you. You would listen to me and I would ask you what you thought, and you would tell me. And I can’t tell you how often your young wisdom astounded me…. You showed me the importance of true listening, and I thank you.

You taught me emotional honesty. You always knew what you were feeling, and could rationally express it. Even when you were a crazy tweenager you’d say “MOM! I’m angry/sad/happy/frustrated because it’s MY AGE!” You felt it all, didn’t hide it, didn’t exploit it. And now, you’re dealing with the difficulties and trauma from the past with unbelievable strength and maturity. Sharing these difficulties with me forces me to unbury all my emotions and bring them to light and let them go, too. Thank you, for your help and for your forgiveness.

You’ve taught me to stay steady in my dreams, to work hard, and to stay true to myself. You were the dancing underdog, starting years later than everyone else in your class. But your determination and hard work and pure joy in the art never, ever wavered. You never skipped practice unless you literally couldn’t get out of bed. When I felt you were short-changed in a part you forced me to keep quiet. It was so not about your ego, it was all about your love of dance. And when it was your time in the spotlight you were the most magical of Mary Poppins. I hope you always dance as if the whole world is watching! Thank you, my beautiful ballerina girl, for your gracefulness and artistry, and showing me pure joy…

And while I will always feel the imprint of your four-year-old hand in my palm, thank you for the wonderful friendship we now share, us two women. I still listen to you and tell you what I think. And you still listen to me and tell me what you think. And your wisdom still astounds me….

Thank you, Angel. You have always been my gift and my blessing, and for you and to you I am deeply, profoundly, grateful.

I love you!

Momma

Whenever I start thinking about love and joy and other wonderful feelings that we tend to have trouble experiencing, the words I use as a starting point of exploration are fearless and unconditional. To live life to its fullest, to experience our greatest good, to partake fully of God’s good bounty in every sense of the word requires us to put all fear and condition aside. Unfortunately for a lot of us, the beauty and pleasure of eating real food is primarily looked at through the prism of fear and condition. Advertisers even market that way; dessert is either a “guilty pleasure” or an “indulgence.”

I remember once a friend offered me a piece of homemade apple pie fresh from the oven that smelled heavenly. I said, “Oh I can’t eat that, I’m afraid I’m gaining weight just smelling it!” And so I didn’t even enjoy a bite. I remember another time when I was in one of my crazy healthy phases choking down wheat grass juice or trying to eat some other health food store monstrosity because it was something I should eat, it was “good for me.” Looking back over my relationship with food, too often for me it has been both fearful and conditional!

Part of learning to love myself (fearlessly and unconditionally) has been looking at my relationship with food – squashing down feelings of hurt and inferiority with an entire box of Oreos until I literally made myself sick. Obsessively measuring, counting every calorie, knowing all the nutritional information of almost everything that went in my mouth in my constant battle to be enough – thin enough, healthy enough, happy enough. And surprisingly enough, both these extremes netted the same result – never quite satisfied in any sense of the word that who I was was enough!

Loving myself meant letting go of food as judgment, as a barometer of my worthiness. In doing so I found that I truly do enjoy food in its natural state. It’s easy for me to see God’s handiwork in a slurpy summertime peach or a fresh-from-the-vine tomato thoughtfully given to me by a client with an abundant garden. I find that when I’m in a state of either spiritual growth or spiritual sluggishness eating a vegan diet almost immediately gives me clarity and energy in every sense of the word.

Yet I also enjoy other food as the gift of love and life it is. I wouldn’t trade Thomas’ and my champagne and crab legs and cheesecake celebrations for anything. Cooking an elaborate Chinese feast for Jasmine and her friends leaves me with an exhausted smile because it gives me a sense of satisfaction deep in my soul. At a recent dinner with some Mexican friends I ate more meat in one evening than I usually eat in two weeks. And I enjoyed every bite, celebrating the warmth of this culture in both the spiciness of the salsa and the affection of all present. Now if someone offers me a homemade goodie, I accept it with joy and appreciation for the gift that it is.

Food with artificial flavorings, preservatives, or chemicals doesn’t even remotely taste good to me anymore. Oreos and Diet Coke haven’t been part of my diet for a long time now. Those things are not real food, and do not honor me or God. And even though I don’t obsess about what I do or don’t put in my mouth, I’m healthier now than I’ve ever been. Fearless and unconditional love for yourself and joy in eating real, good food can do that for you!

That idea of “metaphysical malpractice” had been with me for awhile, though I didn’t have such a nice name for it. I remember once at a social gathering a woman who I didn’t even know came up and excitedly and loudly announced to everyone how clearly she saw my aura and all these bright and colorful lights shooting out around me and how special that all was. It was awkward, embarrassing, and invasive – she didn’t talk to me first to see if it was okay to announce all that information to a group of people whom I didn’t really know. And just last week, a client who had moved to New York and was having a rough time called me in tears because she had visited a psychic who told her that she was reaping all the negative karma she had sowed and she’d be even more miserable unless she followed specific steps, including, I’m sure, more trips to that particular psychic!

Twyman went on to say that while on the soul level he understood and even knew the truth of the ideas expressed during the metaphysical malpractice, at that time he was in a very real state of being human, and nothing else mattered except for the anguish he felt at the loss of one so deeply beloved. He realized that experiencing all that human emotion was absolutely crucial for his soul’s experience on earth. If he hadn’t gone through that excruciating grief and pain, he would not have felt compelled to return to the place where he himself had had a near death experience, and where he had his spiritual encounter with Linda.

This made me really think about how people surviving a horrific death of a loved one is, unfortunately, not that unusual of an experience. On the news yesterday there was a story about the sentencing of a young woman who was driving drunk, ran into a tree, and six of the eight young people in her car were killed. This accident happened four years ago, and a mother of one of the victims was asked if the sentencing brought her closure or helped in any way. This mother was misery and grief personified, and my heart went out to her in her unrelenting suffering. She replied that no, it hadn’t helped at all, that she was still angry and completely unable to forgive the driver of the car, and every day she woke up to the pain of her loss.

I thought how sad this was, how not only was her daughter’s life gone, but hers was as well. And then I thought of others who had suffered deep losses and had chosen other ways to continue living. James Twyman is sharing his story of deep human loss and ultimate redemption with the world to provide a sense of hope. John Walsh turned his anguish over the abduction and murder of his child into “America’s Most Wanted” so that he can help stop others from experiencing the tragedy he had. And there are countless others who have lost loved ones to unusual diseases or experiences who have chosen to honor the life of those who have died by starting foundations to raise funds for research and support of others who are sharing that experience.

These choices not only honor the human part of the loved ones, but also honor the metaphysical as well; they honor the earth life and the very spirit of both the ones who have passed and those who are left here. For me, this is a wonderful reminder of the power of the human spirit and experience. I try to consciously and constantly be on the watch for metaphysical malpractice in my own work, to be patient and allow the voice of my client’s greatest good come through, and to keep my own thoughts out of the way. As a healer, I feel my role is to provide the metaphysical assistance that people may need to uncover what they in their own hearts know is best. I completely honor that choice and, without fail, I am astounded by the wondrous lessons and gifts people receive from the most difficult of human experiences, and what they decide to do with them. And that is the real blessing of my gift for me.

I had been a little apprehensive returning to Florida, the first trip since my father’s transition. But I was heartened to see my mother returning to her old self, missing my father but picking up some of her favorite hobbies again. We had a lovely visit, full of memories of my Dad and discussions of what lies beyond us when we leave Planet Earth. We both agreed that we had felt his spirit shift from the weakness and exhaustion of his illness to a more robust energy when he was fully engaged in life – playing in the community band and orchestra, taking cruises with my Mom, planting trees and flowers around their house. My mom still had questions though – did he leave willingly? Was he ok?

On Thursday we went to a lovely metaphysical store near my mother’s house called Many Blessings. I talked to the owner about my work, and she asked me to do an Akashic Record reading for her the next day. I eagerly agreed, thinking that maybe I could come down and do a workshop and/or healings from time to time. That evening I was thinking that it had been awhile since I’d done a straight Akashic Record reading – I usually used the records as part of a healing session. I asked my Mom if she’d mind if I practiced with her, and she readily agreed.

During the reading Mom asked a lot of questions about Dad, so I invited him to join us. I immediately felt his energy; it was absolutely sparkling. I asked Mom if she felt him, too, but she wasn’t so sure. I asked him to show her his presence and a bright warm light instantly enveloped my mother’s shoulders, a great big heavenly hug that brought tears to her eyes. She, too, then felt his presence, and the questions began.

We asked Dad about his transition, and he said that life just wasn’t fun anymore, so in the ambulance he let go. He said he had said goodbye to my brother Tim on his way out — my mother confirmed that Tim had told her that he had felt when Dad passed. I asked him what he had been up to, and he replied “ talking to Beethoven.” My mother and I burst out laughing. It wasn’t the answer we expected – we thought he would be with friends and family who had preceded him – but it was the answer that was quintessentially my father – of course he was buzzing around talking to his favorite composer! After several more questions we both felt much better and ended the reading. The joy and gratitude and love in my mother’s eyes was beautiful, indeed.

Jasmine came back down on Saturday, and on Sunday morning we went to hear Rev. Jim Rosemergy speak at Unity of Ft. Myers. Right now his voice and his books are what satisfies my yearning to know God – they speak directly to my soul. His talk on Sunday was on healing and wholeness. He talked about how when an astronaut is outside the spacecraft he is completely covered from head to toe so that he can survive the atmosphere of space. That spacesuit does not define who he is, it’s just a covering that allows him to do what he needs to do while in that environment. He has to take good care of the suit, because without it he wouldn’t survive. He went on to explain how our bodies are our earth suits, and while we must take care of them because we can’t survive here without them, they don’t truly determine who we are or our state of wholeness. The key, of course, is to love and appreciate our earth suits, and not condemn ourselves for any perceived imperfections that they may have.

I thought of my dad. He had never had much patience with illness or physical limitation, especially when it affected his busy life. How he struggled with that earth suit of his, especially the last year and a half or so. No wonder his energy came through so vibrantly during that reading – free of his earth suit, he could truly be himself. He was no longer a spiritual being having a physical experience – he was just his amazing spirit. And with that realization, I smiled and said a quiet, “Amen, and so it is.”

And Dad, tell Beethoven I said hello.

Jiddou (Arabic for grandfather) was a quiet, peaceful soul who loved God, his family, his wife, and humanity with equal passion. He was an M.D., following in a line of doctors — his grandfather had been the physician of the Sultan of Turkey. He prayed five times daily, ate healthily and modestly, and walked several miles every day to keep fit. He got great pleasure in sitting and reading the K’oran, and sharing the wisdom that it contained.

While he was a deeply religious man, he never, ever judged anyone, never proselytized, rarely gave advice unless asked. He would listen, truly listen, to anyone who spoke to him. One of my favorite memories is him holding Jasmine in his lap when she was about six months old. She was looking at him and jabbering away, and he gave her the same attention as he did everyone else; looking at her, nodding his head in agreement. Another is him sitting with my father while they discussed different religions and philosophies; they shared an affectionate mutual respect.

Jiddou freely and naturally gave compliments, gratitude, and love. After every meal he would thank God, Nana (his wife), and whoever else helped prepare the food. He considered and treated Nana as a partner, and when he saw her or spoke to her there was always a twinkle in his eye that expressed his deep love and passion.
Jiddou had a successful clinic in his hometown of Mosul, Iraq. He was known far and wide, and profoundly respected by all. His doctoring went beyond the physical, and he was often called on to settle arguments and find solutions. He freely accepted all forms of payment, including a chicken or a couple of eggs, if that was what the patient was able to give. And, of course, he treated all his patients equally…

While his country was being destroyed by war he remained dedicated to doctoring as many as he could. He kept his clinic open, working around the clock if need be. His own finances suffering, he would still welcome all, and take eggs as payment…

I was blessed this past fall to see Jiddou and Nana again. They had finally got visas to the US, as Nana needed corrective knee surgery. Both of his sons here had worked hard to get them to the U.S. for some rest. Jiddou met my new family and had a great conversation with Thomas. He heaped praises on me, on Jasmine, on Nadia, on Thomas. I, again, was in awe of this man, who still absolutely radiated health and love and light in his late eighties.

After a couple months Jiddou was ready to return to Iraq. The safety and material comforts available to him in the U.S. held little importance to him. He was not a man to sit in comfort and retirement for long; he had people to heal and God to serve. So in spite of the pleas of every single one of his family members here, a few months ago he returned home, re-opened his clinic, and returned to his work.

Jiddou made his transition today. He had been at his clinic, seeing patients. When he was through with one, he came out and told his nurse that he was feeling light-headed and had a heaviness in his chest, and asked her to call an ambulance. He never made it to the hospital…

How fitting that he died during Ramadan, the holiest time of year in Islam, the time of compassion, of service, of selflessness. Jiddou had been fasting, something his religion did not require because of his advanced years, but something he did joyfully because it made him feel even closer to God.

And just as Jasmine has parts of Grandpa (my father) in her — her love of all creatures, her silliness, her insatiable curiosity — Jiddou’s legacy is with her as well. She lives in honor and integrity. She’s always been the one her friends turn to for advice or for help or for nurturing. As a pre-med major, Jasmine has shadowed a couple of surgeons, and said that she has never known such peace as when she is in the operating room.

So while he will be missed, how grateful I am to have met this truly spiritual man, and to have his spirit continue in my child. It’s comforting to know that while Jasmine continues on her journey the spirits of both Grandpa and Jiddou will be there to help her on her way.

I met Thomas when I was almost forty eight, after a lifetime of inappropriate, unfulfilling, and often horrendous relationships. In or out of a relationship, I was successful and loving on the outside, and mostly cynical and unhappy on the inside, with just one constant love in my life, my daughter, Jasmine. My second marriage was to a man whom I dated off and on for years, a relationship based on fear and lies and enabling and anger and illness and just about every other negative feeling, thought, and action possible. This relationship eroded my soul and the very essence of my being. Yet I stayed in the thick of it, telling myself that I loved him.

I would love to be able to say that I had the strength and grace to extricate myself, but the truth is, he left. And, of course, not cleanly – he would pop back in, shake things up, and leave again, until finally he left for good. When the dust settled I was finally able to look at my life a little more clearly. I was astounded at the beliefs and stories I had told myself that had not only stuck in my mind, but had completely closed up my heart as well. How could I hate myself so much to think that that relationship was okay? I remember all the excuses – I was getting old, I was far from thin and blonde, I was weird and not normal, so I was lucky to have anybody, and besides ALL men were pigs, and I LOVED him…

Wow. What a mess. I realized a couple of things. First of all, I had never really known peace. I was perpetually in agitation, worrying, ruminating, not sleeping, making myself ill. The moments I thought were peace were simply the eyes of the storm. Secondly, I had no idea what love truly was. I thought the angst and tears was proof of the depth of love, that one needed to suffer for true love; my views were those of all the adolescent ideas present in bad pop songs. And then I thought how it took a really powerful form of self-loathing to convince myself that any of that was okay; after all, I was a smart woman, a professor with a Ph.D….

So I took some time off from relationships and a lot of other parts of my life. I decided if I could have peace, just peace, life would be okay. So I read Pema Chodron and the Dalai Lama and I meditated. It took a long time to turn away from the chatter in my mind, and the nervousness in my heart, but eventually, I was able to feel a calmness and a peace that was profound. I felt for the first time in my life that I knew what a deep breath was, and now, the cleansing could began. I took that peace and held it constantly in my head and heart, and measured every action I took, every thought I had, every feeling I experienced against that peace. If I felt agitation instead of peace, I worked to remove the agitator wherever it appeared.

I was able then to focus on loving myself unconditionally, from the outside to the inside. I realized that the feeling that I had labeled as love stemmed from my childhood and life experiences, and love didn’t need to be defined that way. I realized that I had never felt what I thought was normal, and all my relationships were an attempt to fit in and feel that way; so what I believed was love was a denial of every part of who I truly was. I knew this because whenever I tried to be “normal,” the agitation would begin again.

So I looked inside and outside to see who I truly was. Maybe my body wasn’t the media popular one, but it was certainly a female form, and worthy of love and respect. So I loved and respected and nurtured my body until it was healthy and strong. I haven’t been ill since that time. I looked at all my “oddities” and realized that they were simply passions, and most of the people I knew, those intellectual types, stayed in their brain and had a real fear of passion – it was outside of their experience, and often their beliefs. So I began to live exuberantly – training for a triathlon, switching careers, trying things I had dismissed in the past. And so in addition to the peace I felt within, I also felt fearless and unconditional love for myself. I was content.

After about four years of this work I met my daughter for dinner on a Friday night. She asked if she could bring her boyfriend, and I agreed. We went to a romantic little Thai restaurant, with cozy, candlelit tables chock full of couples on dates… my daughter sat across from her boyfriend, and I was almost literally a third wheel. Maybe it was time to move beyond contentment and try for love. It would be different this time, because I knew now what fearless and unconditional love was. I had it for myself.

So I signed up on match.com. Lots of mismatches, but instead of judging them and feeling cynical or trying to change myself to fit their expectations, I chalked it all up to experience, learned a little more about myself, and moved on. At the very end of my six month subscription Thomas contacted me. From the first time we met I felt a comfort and familiarity I had never known. His path had echoed mine, complete with bad relationships that led to self-understanding. So I exuberantly and fearlessly jumped into love with this man. We have been open and honest and loving and kind and respectful and passionate at all times. We love ourselves and each other unconditionally and fearlessly. And I am deeply and profoundly grateful.

Alex, my dearest friend from my Taiwan days, visited me in
Chicago last week. It had been twenty one years since we had last seen each other, literally a lifetime ago; I had been pregnant with Jasmine then, and this September she’ll officially be an adult. When Alex and I saw each other again the years disappeared. I was again in the presence of a gentle, spiritual soul who had always loved me unconditionally and deeply, and had appreciated me for who I am. We talked about our journeys over the years, and how we both have discovered the wonders of energy healing. Our connection was truly on a soul level, and at a leisurely dim sum with Jasmine, I was present again with all the experiences we had shared. I felt young and full of life and fun. As we talked I realized that no matter what crazy situations we found ourselves in, we always had each other’s back. Jasmine, of course, found this all extremely entertaining, and saw a side of me she’d never seen before.

When it was time to leave I didn’t want to say good-bye. I felt so much remorse for not having him in my life all those years, and gratitude we had found each other again. He graciously, of course, dismissed my apologies, and reiterated the joy of a relationship renewed.

I next talked with Cheri, the woman who babysat Jasmine when I was working on my Ph.D. at Ohio State. She loved my daughter as her own, and we all became great friends; so much so that for years after we moved to Chicago we visited back and forth. I saw on Facebook that she was ill, so I immediately called to do a distance healing. She was loving and caring and asked all about me, even though she was in a lot of discomfort and pain. I felt her wise and angelic spirit, and remembered how I would gently chide her for taking on too much to do for others at the expense of her own well-being. I was so pleased that after our talk she fell into a deep sleep – she certainly deserved the rest!

A few days ago I heard from Nina, a good friend from undergraduate days. She was funny and a little ornery, but always, always very loving and generous. I remember driving to Connecticut from Columbus when Jasmine was four to visit her and her husband. They opened their home and their hearts to us, and we had a wonderful time. Not too long after that we lost touch – I thought of Nina from time to time, but never when it was convenient to call, so she became another special soul who somehow slipped away…

I now know that when unusual events like this happen, especially in a set of three, that it’s a sign from Spirit, so I’ve been pondering what the message in this gift is. Last week I wrote about how in the past I had separated myself into parts for whatever role I needed to play. With Nina I had been the college girl, trying to make my way in the confusing world of young adulthood. With Alex I had been the care-free yuppie, with a good job and good friends and a lot of fun to be had. With Cheri I was the young single mother, trying to juggle job, grad school and child rearing all at once. At none of these stages was I present or aware enough to fully realize how blessed I was to have these amazing souls as friends.

Now I can see the total beauty of each one of these special friends – mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. Maybe the message in the gift was a reminder to stay completely present and aware so that I am able to fully appreciate all that life has to offer me, including second chances. And so with deep, deep gratitude I look forward to renewing and resuming these friendships, and to doing my part to stay connected.

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I have lived with my spiritual gifts with a focus on others – what can I do? Is all okay? Did the healing work we did together help? I know full well that Spirit moves through me as I work; it is a different space I inhabit when I’m doing a healing. I’ve never thought of this as a bad thing – it allows me to be a clear channel for whatever healing transpires. It also encourages me to be humble – the gift is through me, not of me.

But lately I’ve had a couple experiences that have made me rethink the way I look at my gifts. We were at a Unity event that was examining the mystical experience. I realized that I had had similar experiences, and when I casually mentioned this to a friend, she said to me, “Why Cynthia, you are a mystic!” Huh??? And then I got a referral for a physical healing. Now physical healings often happen in my work – I find that when you remove the pain, emotion, trauma, etc., underlying the trouble, the trouble leaves, too – but I thought of that as a side-effect, not the work itself. This referral made me realize that yes, through me, physical healing occurs, and that’s a remarkable thing.

I’ve struggled a lot with these events. Me, a mystic? Me, a faith healer? Pictures of monks and nuns float in my head, only to be replaced by pictures of Tent Revival Preachers and John of God. Whoaaaaaaa – not at all what I signed up for… nope, nope, and nope. In this whirlwind I couldn’t even clear my head enough to go within!

So I talked to some extremely wise people I am so very blessed to know. A nun who herself has mystical experiences. A highly spiritual friend who introduced me to a renowned healer, and who I was privileged to have a long conversation with. Friends who are also looking at their own spirituality. And as luck would have it (I know, there are no accidents) I took an intensive class at Unity in Chicago on Charles and Myrtle Fillmore’s ideas on health and wholeness. The teacher and students were so intelligent and knowledgeable and thoughtful that my head whirled. I’ve been a sponge, just soaking up all the help I’ve received this past week or so.

And then I could take it all within, and look for discernment. I thought of how my ability to separate myself into different parts was familiar. I had been a world traveler who had trouble talking on the phone. I had been a professor with a Ph.D. at work and in an abusive relationship at home. And I realized that this fracturing of myself no longer served me in any way, and certainly didn’t serve my gift nor honor the Spirit within.

I also realized that in many ways I have been working towards this full acceptance of my gift. I constantly, consciously try to live in the greater good. I’ve (mostly) removed negative thoughts and actions from my mind and heart. I constantly, consciously work to release judgment and stay fully open to the guidance I receive from that Divine Spark and that small still voice within.

I’m looking at my gift with fresh eyes now. I know now that my gift can be through me and of me as well. Now I constantly, consciously strive to be one with my gifts and with God. I know that that is the whole of who I truly am.

It’s time to exhale and expand out into the universe again.

There are other gifts in presence. A sure-fire way to stop worry about the future and fretting about the past is to anchor yourself in the right here, right now. If I quickly list three things I am grateful for right now – my girl taking a nap next to me with the cat curled up at her feet, my husband happily exploring his real estate career, the class I’m looking forward to this afternoon – I easily realize I am truly happy and blessed. Everyone can do this with the same results.

Being fully present makes it easier to appreciate the beauty and richness of your everyday life. To truly understand this, walk to the end of the block talking on your cell phone. When you reach the end, hang up the phone, turn around and walk slowly back home, looking at every flower, every car on the street, every child playing, seeing every sight, hearing every sound, smelling every smell. It’s an entirely different experience!

In exploring the connection to my higher consciousness, I’ve realized that presence is a passive state while the state of awareness is more dynamic. Awareness is actively noticing and discerning what is actually there in the now; it is looking for and at “the presents in the presence.” It is consciously looking at all the information that Spirit constantly provides us with to help us to be and to live in our highest good.

Last week when I was meditating and journaling at the lake I questioned why I had been eating so much junk food of late. I was eating stuff that I wouldn’t normally eat and feeling physically ill because of it. I ate stuff with white flour, artificial color, preservatives and high fructose corn syrup. Absolute poison to my system. As I was writing I felt a powerful wave of information coming to me and I busily wrote, wrote, wrote.

I heard the jingling of a bicycle ice cream vendor on the path, but it didn’t even fully enter my head. He swerved off the path, rode right up to me, smiled winningly and asked if I’d like some ice cream. I smiled back and said no, I was fine. He asked me my name, we chatted a minute, he asked at least twice more if I was sure I didn’t want some ice cream. I shook my head and said no thanks. He left and made his way back to the path, and continued on his way.

I eagerly returned to my writing and this is what came out of my pen:

“Don’t discount the signs that are being thrown at you all the time. You didn’t even have a taste for that ice cream.”

Fair enough. I truly didn’t. I was absolutely present with the ice cream vendor – a nice conversation, an appreciation of the inexpensive joy he brought to people on a sweltering summer day, an admiration for his sales technique.

But I was also aware; I realized that I was feeling the connection between the world and my higher consciousness so strongly that stopping to eat that ice cream would have interrupted my writing and the information I was receiving. I would have been distracted and not been present enough to fully savor the treat!

So since then I have been working on awareness, the active connection between presence and higher consciousness. It allows me to see, graciously receive, and make the most of everyday miracles. A conversation with a client resulted in a possible connection with a spa owner downtown, who has a breathtakingly beautiful space that I would love to work out of. An after-class discussion with a teacher gave my blinding clarity about my own work that I had been struggling with for weeks.

It also has given me practice in discernment. I was able to listen and think about the vehement objection of my daughter and husband over a referral for work that was truly not mine to do. When I was able to pause my own thought and be aware of the messages I was receiving, I could see beyond the immediate financial reward and pass this work on to a very talented and spiritually gifted friend. After passing this referral on, within a couple of hours I got another referral and scheduled that appointment!

Practicing awareness along with presence keeps us consciously connected to the world of good that surrounds us. It allows miracles to happen and love to flourish.

Why don’t you practice awareness this week and see what miracles come to you?

Not that this is a bad thing, but my chronic lack of patience and my old habit of propelling myself into a new project until I collapse just wasn’t serving me well this time. When I was in grad school, there was always a deadline for me to strive for, and I’d work toward it single-mindedly, and when I reached it victoriously, I would crash and burn. Not healthy, but do-able, especially when I was younger. Yesterday, however, I realized that there is no finish line to the expansion of my spirituality, and pursuing it single-mindedly at the expense of a full and loving human life is the job of yogis and saints, not me. It was time to practice what I teach and unite higher consciousness with heart and head and aim again for balance.

I went over by the lake and journaled. I realized that my being in higher consciousness without engaging my head and heart was like trying to keep a lid on a boiling teapot. I had all kinds of emotions that were trying to be sorted through that I had been ignoring in my spiritual quest. I realized I was still processing my father’s death, and thoughts and experiences surrounding him and my family for the past forty years or so had re-emerged and cluttered my whole being. I started to go through them, one by one. I missed the touch of his hand, and his unflagging support of me and my business. I recalled experiences with his selfishness and his stubbornness and his deep, deep love and joy in his family, music, the world. His narrow-mindedness and his pride. I went through my whole experience with him being human, and all the emotions that entailed.

I realized that I had the power and opportunity to choose how I could keep my father’s spirit with me. I could envision him angry and weak or I could envision him strong and happy. I smiled at the change and growth he made during his life, and how the last ten years were certainly his happiest. So I stopped ruminating and let go of every hurt and doubt and pain I had felt in that relationship and in his death. I gathered all of it in my heart, surrounded it with love and blessed it for the lessons it had taught me. I released the pain and hurt, and felt my heart and head clear immediately. I felt the flow again that connects my head and heart with my higher consciousness, and I instantly integrated all these miracles I had been experiencing into the me that I am now. I understood that impatient single-mindedness no longer serves me at all because I know that all is in Divine Order and Divine Time, and that’s where true spiritual expansion lies.

I’m seeing my Dad now as he was whenever I arrived in Florida for a visit. We would go outside and he would show me how his plants and trees had grown and any interesting objects he’d found. We’d take a walk down the street to see the burrowing owls, and he’d point out any changes in the neighborhood he’d noticed since my last trip. We’d have great discussions on whatever he’d been pondering since our last conversation. His delight in the here and now of nature and life and me was palpable then. And so that’s his spirit that now resides in my heart, a continuous reminder of the beauty and grace of the human experience. I’ll call on that spirit whenever I need to be reminded of presence and balance and release.

Thanks again, Dad.

Woody, the cowboy doll who is Andy’s (his owner) favorite, refuses to stop loving Andy even when Andy has grown up and no longer has time or inclination to play with him. Though Andy’s other toys feel abandoned and hurt, Woody stays steadfast in his unconditional love. And all of Andy’s toys, including Woody, see themselves as a family, a “one for all and all for one” deal, in spite of the diversity among them and the randomness of their coming together. The goofy dinosaur, the shy horse, the rowdy cowgirl and macho astronaut, the annoying potato heads, even the space creatures whose language is unintelligible except to themselves, are all accepted and treasured for who they are. No matter what trouble or trials they find themselves in, all these toys always look out for each other and work together for their common good.

The toys find themselves donated to a daycare center that on first glance seems like paradise, but in reality is under tight and heartless control by a bear named Lotsa, who is carrying so much hurt from being replaced by his owner that he has no love for anyone. When Andy’s toys try to make their escape and end up at a recycling center facing imminent doom, Lotsa is there, too, and they save him, regardless of all the torment he has put them through. These toys are absolutely fearless and unconditional in their love, even risking their own lives for the undeserving Lotsa.

I know this may seem silly to be so enamored of an animated movie, but throughout the movie there was sniffling in the audience, and by the end, there was hardly a dry eye in the house. And while there were plenty of children in the theater, there were lots of solo adults, too, and just as the numbers showed that there were more than minorities voting for Obama, the box office numbers show that it is not just children and parents seeing this movie.

So what’s the pull? Why are adults seeing this movie and tearing up throughout it? Some of it is could be the loss of childhood. Some of it may be the sadness of leaving home, both for the parents and the children. Some of it may just be the release that comes when we know that everyone is safe and sound. But I think it is more than that. This little movie reached way into our hearts and reminded us all of the beauty and power inherent in unconditional and fearless love. That even when we roll our eyes when we hear such platitudes as “love conquers all,” we not only want to believe that it’s true, we know deep down that it is true. The tears we try to hold back are the reminder of that, the ache in our hearts are our hearts’ expansion at its recollection. We, however temporarily, let our guards down and let ourselves just feel again. Unconditionally and fearlessly.

How about letting your guard down and just feel this week? You may just be surprised by the beauty and power of it all!

Why am I so enamored with this word? To be honest, it’s because I’m tired of words like spiritual growth and being on my path and the next stage and all the other ideas that describe our lives as linear, either horizontally in chronological time (“my path”) or vertically (“spiritual growth”). I guess I just got tired of climbing that never-ending stairway to heaven and following that yellow brick road. I’m completely okay with just being present right here, right now, having my feet on the ground and my eyes open to all. This doesn’t mean I’ll ever stop experiencing and learning new things, it just means that I realize that every experience I’ve had and will have and every lesson I’ve learned and will learn is part and parcel of the who that I am today.

For me, expansiveness is from my heart; it’s not up above me, nor behind me, but simply out from the very center of who I am. From this perspective I know that every tear I shed is a break of a link of a chain surrounding my heart. Every joy is a fanning of the love within it, and every contact with God is a reawakening of my own soul’s knowledge residing in that still quiet place within. Expansiveness allows me to see that when I step outside my comfort zone, I’m not truly stepping out of me, but simply out of the restrictions I’ve put up for myself.

This expansion of my heart has naturally led to the release of lack and limitation. I know that the love expanding from my heart is in infinite supply when it is received from Spirit and nourished by me. And in this week this release of lack and limitation we’ve found a new spiritual home in a large expansive church, we’ve gotten more website orders than ever before, and we’ve met new friends who share our ideas. I’ve experienced miracles large and small almost daily.

Looking for guidance and wisdom within my heart allows me to listen to what others say with discernment, and expanding love outwards encourages me to see the unique and good in all. Since I’m not looking for validation from others, I can release judgment of them. I can truly see how my young web designer absolutely rocks her purple hair and eyebrow piercing. If in a conversation I meet someone who doesn’t believe in energy medicine and pooh-poohs my work, I don’t have to get my feelings hurt or have pity for him or her; I can simply give him or her love and send them on their way.

Because expansiveness requires presence I experience beauty and joy almost constantly. The lovely lilies outside my window, the affection between me and my best friend, the pleasure in seeing the changes in my daughter and her childhood friends, the purring of my cat and the constant, gentle love of my husband. Expansiveness shows me that I am truly blessed.

Why don’t you adopt the idea of expansiveness and see what gifts come to you?

This shift has somehow, miraculously and blessedly, shut off my tired old automatic “no.” As soon as I got home I put an ad on Craigslist (which before I would have felt apprehensive about) for a “spiritually-minded marketing student” willing to help me with social media and reviewing the information I got on the cruise. I got a bunch of responses, hit it off with and decided to meet an energetic and smart young man at a coffee house in the funkiest, hippest part of town. I walked in and immediately felt old and out of place. I reminded myself of expansiveness and took a deep breath. The young man immediately put me at ease and we had a lively conversation, and we both felt we could enjoy a win-win relationship. He taught me a lot about 20 – somethings, and I thought of ways my work could relate to their challenges. I left feeling happy and ready to write my book proposal and take my message to the world!

I had previously felt a little uneasy about expanding my Facebook presence, but in the past few days I’ve come to realize how much more I can do with this phenomena. This morning, I decided to throw all caution to the wind and I sent friend requests to almost fifty people — some of my fellow Hay House Cruisers, and friends of friends who looked interesting and fun. So many new perspectives and interesting ideas! Expansive…. and reading all those ideas triggered a veritable whirlwind in my own head and heart — limitless!

And today, instead of asking immediately for help, I decided to try to reconfigure some computer settings by myself, and was pleasantly surprised at how easy it was. Big adventures, little challenges, I’ve faced them all the past week or so with a smile on my face and joy in my heart. And the limits have crumpled before me…

I was just thinking of how my automatic no’s had limited my life experiences, and prevented me from living life fully, but this isn’t really true. I honor those limitations. They gave me the ability to let go of what I didn’t feel was significant, and focus on what I felt was. They allowed me to decide what was important when I was raising my child and what wasn’t. They allowed me to concentrate my attention on finishing my Ph.D. and in always “getting the job done.”

But limitations no longer serve me, and so through almost constant communication with the wisdom in my heart, the knowledge in my head, and the guidance from my higher consciousness, I’ve released the limitations and replaced them with expansiveness. And, right here, right now, I am tasting the possibility of limitlessness. I’m truly facing the future with joy and positive expectations.

What limits are you feeling ready to release and replace?

I found my cabin and went in to find Orlinda, my roommate from Montana. We went up to the top deck to watch the ship leave port, and then I went to my first class about the ins and outs of getting a book published. I had dinner with Orlinda, and we shared our stories. Orlinda was funny, open, and energetic, and while we had certainly followed different paths, we had Unity in common, and the search for meaning in our lives.

I slept fitfully Sunday night, at times snoring so loudly I woke myself up. I was embarrassed and felt bad for Orlinda, and still felt that ache in my heart for my folks. I went up to the Lido deck for breakfast, and was joined in the elevator by Louise, who was looking for coffee. We decided to breakfast together, and when she took my hands to say grace, she said a lovely blessing beginning with “MotherFather God…” I asked if she was a Unity minister, and indeed she was. She had taken the cruise with her best friend, Pam, an astrologer, who was in the Writer’s Workshop.

I decided to spend the day in the sun onboard ship with Louise, relaxing and centering myself for the class later that afternoon; I didn’t feel the need to join the masses on the cruise line’s private island. Louise was wise and thoughtful and gracious, and I felt truly blessed and grateful to be in her presence. When she told me about the unexplainable pain she had felt in her fingernails for the past three years, I immediately felt drawn to try a healing. We removed the pain and she scheduled a manicure, the first in three years! When we met up for dinner, her nails and her spirit were equally lovely…

Dinner that night was marvelous, both food-wise and company-wise. Orlinda and I joined Louise and Pam and other amazing people, all with fascinating stories to share that had brought them on this cruise. Over the course of the week I met a radiant young man who had released over a hundred pounds and written a book about it; a woman who had spent her life raising and training horses and had the most colorful vocabulary I’d ever heard; several people with near-death experiences who lived to tell their story, literally; extremely gifted healers, and a few who were already nationally known and were ready to expand internationally.

Pam the astrologer and I did a trade and she became my mentor, encouraging me quite vigorously to go beyond what I would normally do. I did six healings on the ship, including a woman who had spoken at the UN, a woman who had channeled a book from her guides, and a professor who was instrumental in bringing the Dalai Lama to his college. Without exception, every person I met on that cruise was remarkable.

I learned in the classes that in order to get published I had to have a platform. This basically meant that I had to have a fairly large measure of success in public (radio, TV, seminars, workshops) before a publisher would even consider my work. I realized I had the beginnings of a platform, but a lot of work and a long way to go to build it up to where my book would be considered. In class I listened to those who had successful platforms but were either too busy , not interested, or not skilled in writing. I heard Reid Tracy, the president of Hay House, talk about ghost writers and editors and manuscript reviewers, and I thought that just maybe I should consider doing some of that while I’m writing my book and building my platform…. I recalled Ivanne on St. Thomas, wanting me to write her memoirs…

I mentioned this to Pam and she pushed me to get up and say something to the instructor and my classmates. I mentioned my Ph.D. and my experience and my interest in helping these fabulous people get their amazing stories written. I asked, “How do I get started?” The instructor replied, “You just did!” A flutter of cards landed in my hands and I handed out even more of my own. This is an unexpected but welcomed twist on my path – hopefully, I’ll be working with a few of these movers and shakers to not only help them tell their story, but to help me build my platform as well.

It was truly wonderful to be in the company of so many like-minded individuals. I spoke about my healing work clearly and easily, and everybody got it. I shared the story of our retreat and got hands clutched over hearts with comments of “Inspiring!” as a response. I was surrounded by gifted and joyous people who fully understood that it was their responsibility and their passion to share their gifts with the world. Not once did I hear about lack or worry or the sad state of the economy.

I felt (and feel) inspired and blessed and validated and encouraged and supported and fully ready and equipped for the next leap forward. And oh yes, I felt total expansiveness and peace as well.
I’m now ready to really start cruising ahead!

Without question, the anxiety comes when there is a disconnect among “ the three h’s.” Although when I was younger I travelled all over Asia by myself, it has been more than twenty years since my last solo venture, where I put myself in an unfamiliar environment with people I didn’t know. This is a great trigger for all kinds of conditions and fears: What if these people don’t get my work? What if my work isn’t good enough? What if I don’t learn what I need to or want to? And way at the bottom of all this, what if they just don’t like or get me? This spiritual/energy work is so intangible at times, no list to check off, no quantifiable proof… and the left brain spins away in an ugly brain hurricane…

I take a moment to breathe deeply, center myself in the right here, right now, and bring this anxiety down into my heart to look for solace. And then I remember a phrase I used to tell myself in my travels – “at least they speak my language, or a reasonable facsimile thereof!” Wherever in the world I travelled before, English was the default language of tourism. With a good ear and a lot of patience, no situation was insurmountable. I realize the people I will be joining on this trip all speak my language, too – not only English, but the language of the desire to contribute to the greater good. This realization naturally helps me to reconnect my head and my heart to my higher consciousness.

And so I jump back into openness and expansion. I pay attention to all the positive signs that have come my way these past few weeks. I taught an intro class to four diverse, amazing individuals. This class has turned into a study group that is helping me to refine, revise and adapt my work. The participants are completely open and honest with me and with each other, and are all committed to this exploration, and we are all experiencing huge growth. I have received a lot of confirmation on the power of heart energy from clients and students. I have even been referred to other sources, from the Upananishads to the work of Dr. Sue Morter, all of which aligns with and provides clarity to my work. All this is letting me know that I am truly on my path.

With left brain and right brain in balance with head and higher consciousness, I am able to enjoy the final preparations for my trip. Going shopping with my girl has always been a favorite activity, so yesterday we shopped for my trip. She helped me figure out the last few things I needed and where to get them, and we had great fun in the process. I’ve got my paperwork just about done, and I’m organizing what of my own work needs to go and what can be put aside until later.

My anxiety has been released and replaced with trust and faith. Now I am truly looking forward to my trip with great joy and anticipation!

The word “power” makes me uncomfortable in many ways. A quick look at a thesaurus lists “authority, supremacy, rule, command” as synonyms. Then comes “strength, force, might.” “Ability, capacity, potential” comes much further down the list. No wonder that to me, the word power often seems divisive, not inclusive or harmonious. Traditionally, when I’ve thought of power it has almost always been accompanied by “abuse of.”

And in the religious and spiritual community the abuse of power is nothing new. Last year, three followers of James Ray died when he convinced them to stay inside his “sweat lodge” in Arizona. The idea of power in the spiritual community can also lead to huge egos and/or illusion — recently, Deepak Chopra claimed that he had caused an earthquake in California that extended down to Mexico, where two people died, hundreds were injured and thousands were left without power. Chopra then apologized via twitter…

So disappointing. It’s beyond my understanding how any mortal, no matter how spiritually powerful, can claim to cause what is traditionally known as an Act of God. Or if I can somehow allow that possibility to enter my mind, why did Chopra have to announce it? The apology sounds hollow. For me, it would have been more spiritually valuable to quietly send some of the millions of dollars his whole enterprise makes to help those affected in Mexico, and vow not to do anything that causes harm again…

Maybe my discomfort in the idea of power is a side effect of my own spiritual growth. Whenever a client or friend says that my Reiki or energy work is powerful, I immediately say it is not my power, it is my gift, and I am a channel for it, not an owner of it. Yet I was chosen to receive this gift, and as I work harder to stay in higher consciousness, to live in love and light, and to use my mind for discernment and not judgment, the stronger my energy grows. I guess my gift is what Spirit gave to me, and my power is in how I choose to use it.

Using the power of my gift to help others while constantly being aware that it truly is a gift encourages me to stay humble, and to me, humility is an absolute pre-requisite for true spiritual healing and growth. Humility allows me to release judgment and to be open to receive spiritual guidance. When I am humble I know that I don’t have all the answers, that my way is no better than any other way, and every person has a unique gift given by Spirit within them, as well.

I think I needed to sort this out to embrace my own power, to realize that personal power does not mean “me against the world” or “me conquering the world.” It simply means to use my gift as fully and fearlessly as possible to help anyone who comes to me to the best of my ability, inclusively and harmoniously. I like this idea of power.

What does power mean to you?

My friend is staying at the Sandra J. Schultze American Cancer Society Hope Lodge, a place where patients and their caregivers can stay for free. This is a godsend for the people here, many of whom are far from home and whose stays often run into months . When I was told about the place I was expecting a lot of discouragement and sadness. However, without exception, I’ve experienced nothing but kindness, gratitude, and compassion from everyone, including the staff, the volunteers, the patients, and their families.

Tonight the guests had a potluck, with grilled brats and potato salad and baked beans and other comfort food. We arrived empty-handed since we had had a long day, yet we were welcomed generously. All the other patients asked my friend how she was doing, and gave her words of encouragement. They were funny and friendly and it felt like any cookout with a group of friends, except they all were being treated for cancer. They were all so grateful and gracious that I could truly for the first time see the gift in this illness – they had all come to understand what was important to them in their own lives and were grateful. They were facing huge challenges, but at least in public, radiated peace. It was amazing.

I had been thinking a lot lately about expansiveness from different perspectives, including a financial one. Hope Lodge is funded in large part by the family who founded the Best Buy stores . How wonderful to have such expansiveness in so many ways – in vision and in philanthropy and gratitude and compassion – that you could create and support a place such as this. This place is truly and beautifully expansiveness in action.

Being here with my friend has been a blessing. We’ve laughed and talked and just shared in the incredible love and affection we’ve always had. I am glad I’ve been able to lend an ear to hear her sort through her treatment options, and that after her treatment this afternoon I could push her in a wheelchair almost all the way back to the Hope Lodge. I am happy that tomorrow she has the whole day free, and I can go with her on a bus to the Mall of America and back. I am thrilled that I can tell her all that’s been in my heart and mind and soul over the past couple months that I just can’t express completely in a phone conversation.

So when I return home on Thursday it will be with a clearer understanding of both peace and expansiveness. They are both best realized with gratitude, kindness, generosity and compassion. And, of course, with a lot of hope.

I felt pulled to go to the beach and meditate, so on Saturday morning, I went over to the lake, bundled myself up, and sat on a breakwall. The water was beautiful, an aqua-green that with a little imagination and a blurry focus became the warm Carribean sea. The waves rolled and rippled up to the breakwall in a mesmerizing rhythm. I felt my breathing slow and my heart expand, and I felt fully, blissfully present.

Suddenly a group of approximately ten swallows came up and started flying around my head. They darted in front of my face and out to the lake and then turned and flew past me again. They were delightful and entertaining, and I enjoyed their company. Then I realized that it was more than a little odd that they were surrounding me, so I looked around to see if they were near anyone else. Nope. Hmmmmmm. I got up and walked about a quarter mile, and sure enough, they followed me. I returned to my original spot and watched them for a while longer.

I thought of how the night before I had talked with a friend whom I admire greatly. She mentioned (again) how much she enjoyed what she called my gift, my ability to write, and she mentioned (again) that I should write her memoirs. I recalled all the notes of love and support I received because of my writing about my Dad’s transition in my blog, and how in the past I’ve gotten emails and notes of appreciation for my little blog. I smiled, recalling how when writing my dissertation, I would hole up for an entire weekend to write when Jasmine was at her Dad’s, and the phone would ring and it would take me a minute to figure out where the noise was coming from.

I remembered how my dissertation was mentioned in a professional journal for new and outstanding research, and how I was so exhausted at the time that it really didn’t matter. And I realized that it was time for me to write my book, and that I wanted Hay House to publish it. I felt much calmer and had a new sense of purpose and direction, so I gathered my blanket, waved goodbye to the swallows, and went home.

I looked up swallows in one of my animal spirit guide books. It said that when swallows appear, I need to step back and gain perspective from the mundane, and to let go and move on instead of rehashing past wounds and issues. Indeed!!! It said that there would be some turbulence that I would be able to weather before an unusual period of gain and abundance, and that I would find creative solutions to familiar problems… interesting! I prayed that the turbulance referred to the events of the past year, and I would soon be entering the time of gain and abundance…

Expansiveness and peace, creativity and abundance — my book! I went to the Hay House website, just curious to see if it had a section tucked away on how to submit a book proposal. No, but they were sponsoring a week-long writer’s workshop in which one of the participants woud be awarded an advance and a book contract. At the very least I would have a deadline and the tools to write a book proposal worthy of consideration by Hay House, and if they didn’t want it, it could be submitted elsewhere. The workshop promised to teach the hows and whys and ins and outs of not only writing a spiritual self-help book, but also how to get it published.

As I contemplated the serendipity of all this, the lack and worry started to shriek in alarm about spending that amount of money and taking even more time away from my business. But then the swallows and the expansiveness and peace overrode those pesky naysayers. After talking it over and mulling it over, and just feeling the happiness arise in my heart over both the workshop itself and the opportunities it would present, I registered.

I am jumping in and practicing what I preach. Wish me great luck, and I will keep you posted.

What opportunity is there for you to jump into? Hold it in your heart and consciousness, and be open to any signs that give you encouragement, like a flock of swallows…

I hadn’t been able to let go of the anger and frustration that I was feeling towards my father; his stubbornness, his self-pity, his inabilty to adjust and adapt, his unwillingness to fight for his life. I wanted my parents to have the chance to enjoy their lives a little, something they hadn’t done very much in the three years since the accident. I wanted my father to see his grandaughter graduate from college and med school. I wanted to sit on the lanai and play cribbage with him. In my minds’ eye I couldn’t let go of the emaciated old man refusing to eat nourishing food and reaching for a glass of water that was like poison to his system.

In my head I knew the whole situation was a lot more complicated than that, and even if he had taken better care of himself, he’d still be weaker than normal and on dialysis. He hated weakness and dialysis, so I intellectually could honor all that. Spiritually I was okay, too, I know that we are all spiritual beings having a physical experience, and I am certainly getting that he’s in the beautiful space he’s supposed to be. My heart, however, refused to let all the pain go…

Several people have asked me if I have gotten a sign from my Dad. When in Florida I saw more beautful water birds than usual, a love I shared with my Dad, but I didn’t take that as a sign. I couldn’t feel him in a positive way, just couldn’t let go. I carried that pain like an anvil in my chest, and it was crushing me. Last night I tossed and turned and gave Thomas no rest, and finally about 3:00 am, for almost an hour, I just howled and bawled and let it all out. I immediately felt what I can only label grace, a feeling of being spiritually cradled. And then, when I was drifting off, I sent love and forgiveness from my heart to my father.

I heard a gentle voice calling me “Sweetski,” a pet name my father had for me that I hadn’t heard in so long I had forgotten about it. I felt him, his energy, his strength, the special bond of love we shared. And I could finally see him in his glory, full of life and orneriness, strong and happy, and I was able to feel once again that I was his child. His presence stayed with me for awhile, until all my anger and sadness and frustration had left, and I was left with fondness and love. And then I fell into a deep and restful sleep.

And while I am absolutely exhausted today, I am beginning to feel whole again, able to hold onto that spark of his love that was reignited in my heart last night at 4:00 am. Now I can say that I am truly okay.

When I think of my Dad, the greatest gift he gave to me is the gift of wonder: The wonder of nature, the wonder of music, the wonder of learning, the wonder of love.

His gift of wonder gave me an appreciation of the beauty of nature. He knew the name and habits of every plant, flower, bird, and animal he saw, and was thrilled when they appeared within his sight. Like him, I can take a walk outside and marvel at a gorgeous hibiscus or a burrowing owl. This gift soothes my soul and encourages me to practice presence; going for a walk outside, paying attention to all of God’s gifts, is a meditative experience to me, thanks to my father’s gift of wonder.

His gift of wonder gave me an appreciation of music, the passion that gave him pleasure from the beginning of his life to the end, and one that he shared with thousands. On Saturday when we took him to dialysis, even though he was so very weak, we put on a classical CD and he conducted and played the flute and violin in the air. We all smiled and enjoyed this moment, joining in with our own air instruments. This gift of wonder has allowed me to enjoy all music, from Mozart to Motown, and everything in between.

His gift of wonder gave me a life-long appreciation of learning, not only of formal education, but of the wonders of the world. Like him, I studied as far as formal education could go, and I also became a student of the world. He always had National Geographic and The Smithsonian magazines around, and as a child I poured over them. I’ve traveled a lot and made good friends from many cultures.
I not only live with a world-view, but with an explorative and active mind, thanks to his gift of wonder.

His gift of wonder gave me the gift of love. He loved his family passionately. When he came to Chicago to watch Jasmine dance the title role in Mary Poppins, tears of joy and love streamed down his face so much I’m sure it was like watching it through a thunderstorm. His love extended beyond his family to all of our friends. Nothing gave him greater pleasure then to have young folk in his home. When I was in college I knew I could always bring stranded friends home for a holiday. My daughter, Jasmine, brought her friends down to grandma’s and grandpa’s for Easter a month ago, and he loved every single minute of it. His gift of the power and wonder of love shapes my business, my life, my faith, the very soul of who I am.

Thank you, Dad, for the amazing gift of wonder. And happy explorations in the wondrous world beyond this one.

Jasmine drove down from Sarasota to spend the night with my mother, and I flew in Tuesday morning. My mother had basically made her peace, glad that my father’s unhappiness has ended. She had had a year and a half to prepare. He died peacefully and painlessly, and did not have to leave his beloved home. We are grateful for all of this.

So us Miller-Zeki women have made the arrangements, going together to the funeral home, in total agreement on everything. We’ve all naturally taken over the tasks we’re good at, and we’ve been blessed with a pretty smooth path. When one of us is hit with a wave of loss, the others are there to hug and to hold. I am constantly amazed at the strength and wisdom of my mother and daughter, and am appreciative of the similarities we all share: a distaste for ostentation, an appreciation of simplicity and nature, an ability to go with the flow and accept what is. We all would rather do things ourselves because we know they will be done right, and we appreciate both ice cream and a bargain. Today when we were running around making our arrangements, we noticed that Dairy Queen had a buy one get one special, so of course we had to take a break… While these few days have not been easy, we are at peace, and are treasuring our time together and this new dynamic we share.

I naturally have been thinking of my father and the life he led, and how he rarely accepted things as they were. Many times this served him well — he fought for what he believed was right, encouraged his students to aim ever higher, and had an insatiable curiosity to know the hows and whys of just about everything. But in this last phase of his life, this inability to accept was a detriment. He couldn’t accept any of the limitations that could prolong his life. He hated dialysis and not being able to eat and drink whatever and whenever he wanted. When he realized he couldn’t fight his way out of these limitations, he was left with nightmares, insomnia, and a childish stubbornness that ate away at his health. The oxygen tube was the last straw. It wasn’t a lifeline to him, it was a yoke; he was ready to die, and so he did. And I know now he is at peace….

Yet here I am in Florida again, and he’s in the hospital again, primarily because he doesn’t eat enough or sleep enough. He only wants to nibble on desserts, drink too much fluid, and sleep during the day, which keeps my Mom in a constant state of sleep deprivation and frustration. My trips down here are a brief respite for her; I spent the night at the hospital with my dad last night so she could get a little rest.

My dad was raised in a religion with a judgemental, vengeful God, where all are deemed unworthy upon birth; the fear of God takes precedence over the love of God. And while he he hasn’t practiced this faith in many, many years, the guilt inherent in its teachings is instilled deep in his bones. And while I’m amazed at the strength of my Dad’s body to subsist on very little food and sleep, I also see how ravaged it is by this guilt; since the car accident three years ago, he has punished himself almost constantly for it. This latest phase of not eating and not sleeping was brought on by the death of a relative; he feels guilty for not being able to see him before he died, and guilty that he, not the relative, is still alive.

All my prayers yesterday were focused on his sleeping through the night. He needed to sleep in order to break the habit of being up all night, and selfishly, I wanted the rest, too. It had been a long day. He went to sleep with good intentions, but slept fitfully. I went through every healing modality I knew in order to help him rest. Finally around 3:30 am, after a tech came in and turned on the bright lights in order to get a blood sample, we gave up and talked. I asked him point-blank why he was trying to kill himself, why he felt he didn’t deserve to live. He mentioned the death of this relative, the incredibly debilitating disease of another. He said that if he died then either the first relative’s soul could come back to the earth or the other relative’s body could be healed. Now I know that this is not the exact teachings of my father’s religion, and I know my father was “squirrelly” from lack of sleep and food. But I also know that the teachings of fear, sacrifice, vengence and guilt are so ingrained in him that these ideas could take hold in his brain and stay there.

So we talked. I asked him if he believed God was a loving God, and he nodded yes. I reminded of his fight to regain hiis health, and how all his treatments to regain his health have been successful. Yes, he is on dialysis, but that is actually a gift, since it is keeping him alive. We talked about the other gifts in his life, the amazing love and support of his wife of 56 years, the support and love of his family, students and friends. We talked about he how he has led a basically good life, how he has brought the joy of music to thousands during his career as a music teacher, and how music itself is a gift from God.

I asked him to think about how he met his health challenges head on over the past couple years and how he has come up on top. How maybe, just maybe, God helped him through all that so he can live in love and enjoy the years he has left. That God was actually helping him, not looking for punishment or sacrifice. He thought about that for a while and broke into a huge smile. The conversation made a lot of sense to him.

So I think about faith. In my work with my clients I have seen miracles happen. My healing work with my father seems to have a built-in expiration date, which at times makes me question my own faith and abilities. I wish that he would just continue getting better, or at least maintain a status quo. Then I think how that is more about my own insecurities and need for reassurance, and that it’s presumptive and egotistical of me to think that my ideas and work could or should supercede either a person’s free will or the work of Spirit.

So I continue to pray for the best for my father, whatever that may be. I pray for strength for my mom. And I pray that both of them can experience years more of the love and joy that has kept them together for fifty six years.

How are you defining your new normal?

I admit I was a Daddy’s Girl. My father taught me about nature and music. He never returned from a trip without a new stuffed animal for me, and if Mom wouldn’t give me what I wanted, well, I just asked Dad, and it usually worked. My Dad had the guts and gumption to fight his way to his Ph.D. He’s a musician, still toting his flute to band once a week, and as a music teacher, still has students from fifty years ago sending him Christmas cards.

Yet, when I think of all my schooling, I also think of my Mother. She had to quit college after just two years, and didn’t get a chance to return until at least 15 years later. She never gave up her dream of being a registered nurse, and I can still picture her sitting on the couch in quiet concentration, absorbing the information in her books and graduating at the very top of her class not once, but twice. Remembering her ability to study and raise a family encouraged me to return to school when Jasmine was very young, and because Jasmine has seen me do the same, she has no fear of all the years of schooling required of her to be a neurosurgeon. My mother showed me that pursuing an education isn’t separate from a “real life,” but instead, an integral part of a fully lived life.

And while my Dad’s creativity is a lively, passionate one, my mother’s is quiet and love-filled. She made my clothes when I was growing up, and made me a beautiful suit and teacher-appropriate dresses when I finished my M.A. When Jasmine was young, she made exquisitely beautiful and complicated dresses not only for Jasmine’s tiny frame, but also for her even tinier American Girl dolls. I never had the patience or desire to do the sewing and needlework and quilting that she does, but she has passed this gift on to Jasmine. She taught her the joy of cross-stitching and quilting and knitting, and I know that not only has this given Jasmine a healthy form of relaxation, but has also influenced Jasmine’s appreciation of the fine work of a neurosurgeon.

And while my family wasn’t overtly demonstrative when I was growing up, I never doubted her love and support. One of my first memories is of being curled up in her lap in the rocking chair, feeling very much at peace. And when I had some kind of trauma in my life, she always had a way to calm me down and help me put things in perspective.

After Jasmine was born, our relationship matured. She told me stories of her childhood and my childhood and helped me understand our lives. Our weekly talks became less of an obligation and more of a pleasure. My appreciation and admiration of her continued to grow, and today, without doubt, she is my strongest supporter. When Jasmine came home from her freshman year of college, totally frustrated by my unwillingness to see how she had changed, she finally exclaimed in exasperation, “I want a grown-up relationship with you now, Mom. You know, like the one you and Grandma have!” And I thought about it, and I got it, and while it isn’t always easy to have an adult relationship with her, it’s always worth it.

So thank you, Mom, for your strong, beautiful, loving self. Know that I have deepest gratitude for all that you have done and still do for me and my family and our family, without complaint or expectation of reward. And while I know you think I’ve lived a courageous life, know that you set the example for that, with grace and humility and an extraordinary amount of love. Thank you. I love you with all my heart.

Happy Birthday!

However, on Friday evening, I taught a crystal class hosted at the Rare Earth Studio, by the amazing Ivanne Farr. She is a woman who not only shares my love for beautiful gemstones, but leads a life of grace with a commitment to the greater good. The class was extremely well-attended with both healers and non-healers. All appreciated the class and Thomas’ singing bowl meditation. After class, several came up to us and asked when we could return to teach more classes and have more sessions. We felt that this was truly the place for us to be.

The next day our retreat began on Water Island. We drove the golf cart around the island to Windswept, the place where we were holding the retreat. We got out of the cart and were dumbfounded by the immense beauty of the place. The views were stunning, the trade winds caressed us, the condo beautifully and luxuriously furnished. When our retreat participants joined us, they, too, were thrilled.

Water Island and Windswept were perfect. After class, each person could sit on the patio and journal or immerse themselves in the pool; the tranquility of the place naturally led to introspection. We started the day with coffee and fruit bowls and conversation. We worked hard during the day, and Thomas was a grill master, creating delicious and healthy dinners. Our participants were eager to help, and put themselves on the clean-up committee. Several days we went down to the beach and just sat, processing, relaxing, being present and at one with the beauty and peace. All went relatively smoothly (outside of my cell phone, Kindle, and computer all dying within a day of each other; I took this as a sign that I needed to retreat, too), and Thomas and I and our participants were all pleased with the growth, understandings, and insights we experienced.

When the retreat was over, we spent a few more days on St. Thomas. We had originally scheduled this time to decompress and visit with Suzy; instead, we found ourselves working, doing private sessions on some of the people who had come to our class, and talking with Ivanne about some amazing possibilities for collaboration. In all my previous visits to the VI, I had never even attempted to drive; this time I drove all over, from Crown Bay to Charlotte Amalie to Magen’s Bay to Yachthaven Grande to Red Hook. I was thrilled that I could actively recall and put into practice all those passenger side observations. We felt so comfortable and blessed to be there, and are greatly looking forward to returning. Thomas and I did it! We held the retreat and made some great new contacts with some help from our friends, but basically by ourselves.

I’m thinking of how too often we want to be passengers. We listen to the stories of our more adventurous friends or watch TV or youtube and marvel at how some people take charge of their lives and actually live it. However, most of us want to be guided and directed and told what to do, and when that doesn’t happen, we change, but kicking and screaming most of the way. I’m glad we were able to step forward, keep the faith, and not sink in discouragement and self-pity. We kept our eyes on the bigger picture and worked fully in love and integrity. So although much of our trip was not how we originally thought it would be, in almost every way, our expectations were exceeded by far. It was a glorious trip and I am grateful.

The scary part of a new normal is that we don’t know how to face it. We spend our lives looking back at what has and hasn’t worked for us in the past in order to deal with the present and the future. At best, this left-brain thinking now leads to frustration. For us in service industries, no amount of advertising or networking will bring back the sheer volume of clients we had in the past. From dentists to massage therapists to financial planners to nail technicians, all of us have seen a drop in business due to the change in people’s disposable income, and even when the economy recovers, our businesses will probably not automatically resume to what they were before. At worst, this type of left-brain thinking leads to panic and fear and a whole new level of being stuck.

The blessing in the new normal, and there always is a blessing in any adversity, is that we get to create our own new normal. Instead of focusing on our left-brain habits of looking to the past and intellectualizing about what should be done (this strategy isn’t really working anyway) we get to be wise and look into our hearts and see what it is that we really want to do next, and we get to be creative and find the best way to do it. Because we also realize that we truly don’t have all the answers, we get to turn to others for help, including Spirit. All of these things open up a whole new realm of possibilities. In creating our own new normal, we get to be at the forefront of the new normal for everyone else.

We also get to choose the morality and ethics of our new normal. Many of us in service industries fundamentally want to help others, and live green and with love. It’s the perfect opportunity for us to put all this in practice.

Our retreat this week will give me time and focus to discover what this new normal means to me. I will be walking my walk and talking my talk, meditating and journaling and really looking within. I can’t wait to discover my new normal…

I’m not sure if I will blog next Tuesday… I may not be hooked up to a computer! In the meantime, think and dream about what you want your own new normal to be.

I talked often with both women, questioning when they would help promote the retreat. Both said not to worry, that everything was fine, they would do their part to help. Meanwhile, we promoted ourselves, on various websites and Unity churches and our network of friends and clients. Although nothing was said, I could feel the woman I share space with distancing herself from the retreat. I asked her if she was still on board, and she said yes, but did nothing to actively promote the retreat until the first week of February, and then, two weeks ago told us (when asked) that she would not be joining us. The retreat leader on St. John told us a week and a half ago that the large villa that she had wanted for the retreat had been booked by another group, and as she was having some health challenges, she had taken this as a sign to let the retreat go, even though we had people from Chicago who had already purchased their tickets to St. Thomas.

I was stunned. Both of these women were people I had admired, and I couldn’t imagine that either would back out like that. Not only was I left holding the bag, I was left holding a bunch of hurt feelings as well… I started furiously looking for places for our group to stay on St. John and St. Thomas. I looked at dozens of rentals with no luck — all either too expensive or booked or both. Then last week, after much meditation, prayer, and conscious effort, I was able to let go of what I thought the retreat had to be and was able to be open to what the retreat was going to be. I wrote my blog and started to look for a location again.

I was led to Water Island, an island so small and laid back that you get around it on golf carts — no need at all to rent a car. Beautiful beaches and places to hike, perfect for our retreat. Yet only a 10 minute ferry ride to St. Thomas – perfect! We had a lovely location booked within an hour.

Thinking about the space I was renting and the reality of what it was instead of what I hoped it to be forced me to open my mind again. I realized that renting and staying in one place was not encouraging me to build community, so I decided to have my office at home and rent hourly at a couple different places. This would allow me to teach classes at different locations and hold retreats when I wanted without having a business financial obligation when I wasn’t present. Not an easy decision either, since it’s the first time in my adult life that I haven’t had a desk in an office somewhere away from home!

Lessons learned? Plenty. Letting go of hurt feelings brought a huge “aha!” that will help me in my work. The retreat stuff? If I hadn’t been approached in the first place, I wouldn’t have held one so soon. And I know that Thomas and I can hold our own retreats without outside help, thank you very much. The space stuff? For me, community isn’t just about other healers or people who have products and ideas I like. It’s about connection on all levels — spiritual, emotional, and moral — that matters to me. And I am blessed to have had lunch with two people yesterday that I immediately felt connected to on all those levels, and I am looking forward to future collaboration with them.

I am sitting at my desk that was recently moved home. I have some quiet music playing in the background, a one-eyed cat curled up on the floor next to me, and a window in front of me that offers a view of a beautiful huge old tree. Now it looks like a pencil sketch, outlined against the gray sky. In the spring it will bring buds and the summer leaves and birds and squirrels and growth. I look up at it from my work and I smile…

This is the perfect place for a desk, and me, to be. And although it’s not all smooth sailing yet, I have no doubt it will be soon enough. And I am grateful.

Wishing you all smooth sailing this week!

I would like to say that I immediately shifted into higher consciousness, connected to my heart and my brain, and immediately took a balanced approach to all of my challenges, but alas, I’m human after all. I immediately hunkered down into my fighter’s mode, my “do or die, I’ll take care of it all” approach. When relating my tale of woe to friends and family and community, almost all said, “keep the faith.”

So I thought about this idea, this keeping of the faith. And I realized that not keeping the faith was not practicing what I was preaching, and that the last time I did not keep the faith I got completely disconnected from my guidance and was totally miserable. So I consciously reconnected to my heart, brain, and higher consciousness. I realized at this time that one of my goals this year was to reconnect to community. So I began anew, practicing what I preach, reconnected to all parts of myself and my community as well.

I opened my mind and my heart to the new directions on my path. I attentively listened to what my friends, family, and colleagues had to say. I let go of my tunnel vision on how I thought things had to be done and became open to the possibilites before me. I reached out to those who offered help, and am grateful for their assistance. I will be working with a close friend who has always admired and been incredibly supportive of my work. I am making new contacts in the Virgin Islands that will lead to further trips and retreats to that lovely corner of the world. And instead of focusing on the difficulty of these changes and shifts, I’ve opened myself once again to divine guidance and gratitude. And now I can truly see that almost all these changes that I am in the midst of are for my highest good, and all will be well.

I’ll let you know when that happens, but in the meantime, I’m keeping the faith.

What does keeping the faith mean to you?

Yesterday and today my blog just wouldn’t come. I kept on getting interrupted and I got stuck on the topics I thought I wanted to write about. While attempting to write this morning, I kept feeling pulled by the crystal table. I went over and picked up my selenite ball, which is often a companion when I write. Then I felt a slight tug on my head and my eyes fell on the white stone. Aha! I had just then finished talking with a dear friend on how a lot of what she has been working on is finally being realized, and so I understood that today’s topic is “culmination.”

I thought about this for a while. “Full Circle,” written a few weeks ago, was about the culmination of my understanding of myself as a teacher. And last week, I was finally able to put thoughts and feelings and guidance about my work down on paper and in diagram form that finally allows me to see for myself and explain to others the uniqueness of what I do. It felt like giving birth! Jasmine sent me a text this morning saying that the first surgery she saw today, her first day of shadowing a neurosurgeon, was for NPH, the same surgery my father had a year and a half ago. I thought of how for her, this is a culmination of all the work she’s done since her freshman year in high school to determine if she really wanted to and could be a neurosurgeon (a resounding yes to both). And for me? A culmination of the love, support, and encouragement I’ve given my girl to help her grow into the amazing young woman she is today…

A quick scan of the dictionary defines culmination as “a final climactic stage” or “to reach the highest point or degree.” Before when I thought of the word “culmination,” I would immediately associate it with an ending; All that work is done! Today when I think of culmination, I think of a landing, a place to pause. A culmination is a great place to stop and review all that’s been done to reach the place where we are right now, to give ourselves a hearty pat on the back and a “Yay me!” It helps us to work toward and welcome the next step, which of course, is “fruition.”

For Jasmine, her culmination allows her to suffer through calculus and chemistry because she knows she’s destined for much more than the sum of those parts. For me, the culmination of understanding my teacher self in combination with the concrete expression of the blueprint of my work allows me to develop my workshops, classes, retreats, and books with purpose and joy. I’m excited about the fruition of both Jasmine’s and my own culminations.

Take a minute to reflect on a culmination you experienced. Did it lead to fruition? If not, how can you use that experience in your life now?

I listened and enjoyed the story, right up to his plans to go February 7th, considering his dialysis schedule. His delivery was so smooth it seemed perfectly logical when he said how much they wanted to go, and how it would be impossible for them to do it alone, and could I imagine how much fun we all would have? Why didn’t I come down and join them? I said I would look at my schedule and flight times and let them know.

When I realized it was just a week away I had serious doubts. Would my clients be able to re-arrange their schedules? Would I be able to get all I needed to get done finished? TJ heard me hemming and hawing and told me to just go. If your Dad was in the hospital, he reasoned, you’d be down in a heartbeat. Why not help them have fun?

I thought about this. My Dad’s health had been steadily improving, with a goal to travel to Ohio in the spring to visit his brother and some old friends. Unfortunately, his brother passed away quickly before this trip could take place. My father felt very disappointed, and had regressed on his own self-care. My mother is on a constant tightrope trying to do what’s best for my dad physically while helping him do what he needs to do for his emotional health; these two ideas often collide, leaving her exhausted. Taking them to the fair would lift the burden from both of them and allow us all to actually enjoy each other for a day, with no other worries or concerns.

So I went. Jasmine decided to come down and picked me up from the airport as an added bonus; I got some hugs and kisses and conversations that just can’t happen long distance. We all got up way too early on Sunday to drive to Tampa and arrived 15 minutes after the Fair opened. It was outrageously expensive to rent an electric scooter for my Dad, so we rented a wheelchair instead. Jasmine and I took over pushing duties, which allowed my mother to relax and enjoy herself, too.

We had a magical time. We shared funnel cake and french fries and other treats that we rarely ate. We laughed at the goofy fancy chickens and cooed over new-born bunnies. We cheered on the dogs running the obstacle course and tried at least twenty samples of various Florida fruits. We explored just about every nook and cranny of those fairgrounds until we were totally exhausted. We didn’t notice anyone else, so present were we with our country selves, taking a break from the worries of our day to day lives.

I thought of times in the past when going to the fair would have been beneath me and downright torturous. I would have spent the day impatiently rolling my eyes and being judgemental, feeling sanctimonious and miserable. I am so glad that I have let that part of me go. It is freeing to be able to see beauty and grace no matter where you are.

I came home today with a happy heart, basking in the love of my family, grateful to see the sparkle back in my father’s eyes. I realized again how enjoyment and celebration of life is just as important to healing as doctors and hospitals are.

Have a week filled with beauty and grace, no matter where you are!

The class was very well attended and went extremely well. It was wonderful to see everyone find their own connection to the stones and to experience their excitement with them. They were so amazed to find they could intentionally and intuitively pick a crystal to suit their needs. And I was happy to be able to facilitate the discovery of this new skill. At the end of the class, one of the participants raised her hand and said that for the first time, she felt that she could actually use her crystals in her every day life. I was thrilled!

Reflecting after the class, I was reminded at how at one point in my former career as an ESL teacher and professor I had really enjoyed teaching. I taught my first college class as a 21 year old grad student. I remember helping bright students from countries whose languages were completely different from English finally understand the complexity and necessity of English academic writing. I was happy I could give them this important tool to help ensure success in their studies. By the time I left teaching I was so fed up with academia I swore I would never teach again. I really didn’t think I had missed it, especially since I teach classes with smaller groups regularly. But the energy and dynamics of a larger group is different, and put me back in my teacher persona.

In some ways it felt like I was reuniting with an old friend. I like seeing “light bulbs” go off, to see people in a class share and help each other. I like the challenge of leading people to think or see from a different perspective without actually telling them how. It was fun to be kept on my toes, to trust my own knowledge and intuition when faced with questions. I also remembered how one of the real pleasures of teaching is that I get to learn, too. Delving into Cayce’s ideas of how we vibrationally connect to crystals, and how every element outside of us in nature is inside of us as well, not only made a lot of sense, but reminded me again of how far ahead of his time Cayce was. I’ve picked up my “Edgar Cayce Companion” again, which had been gathering dust on my bookshelf for awhile, and renewed my belief in and awe of this fascinating man.

Most often in my life when I’m done with something I am completely and totally done — no ruminations and no regrets. And often , this has served me well — it has allowed me to make huge shifts and be open to new experiences, and has encouraged me to live my life fully. But Saturday I was reminded how it’s good to revisit old ideas and feelings, and to be sure to hold onto the good when releasing the bad. Will I ever be a full-time professor trying to deal with the politics of a large institution again? Probably not. Will I welcome the chance to teach in a larger venue, to help people experience their own life and spirituality more fully? You betcha. It’s rewarding to be back where I was thirty years ago. Full circle…

This week, why don’t you revisit an old hobby or passion or book that you put away a while ago? What new insights can you get from this experience?

But, alas, I’m human, and sometimes it seems my faith is questioned in some fashion almost every day. “Have Faith” I tell myself. But then I think, well, what do I mean by that? What exactly is faith? Is faith as simple as not questioning that when I go to sleep at night I’ll wake up the following morning? If so, is that faith the same as a woman with a serious illness not questioning her awakening the next morning, either? This lack of questioning on my part is not really faith, it’s unquestioned expectations; I’ve never had to face the possibility of not waking, so it’s unconsciously accepted that I will. On the other hand, the seriously ill woman who doesn’t question whether or not she’ll wake up has faith — she consciously knows that other possibilities exist.

When I doubt faith I find myself enmeshed in worry and the need to control. I want what I want when I want it and any openness to other options is firmly shut. If I don’t get my class that I’m teaching on Saturday finished today it won’t go well. If this possible client doesn’t confirm today, she never will. And so my faith is shaken, and I allow myself to go down that slope of coulda shoulda woulda, and then fall into the illusion that all of this is somehow within my power to control, anyway. When my faith is shaken I’m consumed by a lack of patience and self-indulgence, frustrated that the whole world is operating in divine time, not my time. It’s exhausting and not pretty…

So I take a deep breath and step back. I express gratitude for the here and now… I’m extremely grateful to have the opportunity to teach that class on Saturday, and I know that it will be fine. I’m grateful that this new client expressed such interest in my work, and if she doesn’t call me, I’ll email her later this week. I know that she has a whole life outside of her possible appointment with me, and if she doesn’t call today it’s not a personal failure on my part. Then I take the opportunity to pat myself on the back and affirm what I’ve done right. I’m glad I attended the networking event that led to my new client. I’m glad I mentioned that I would like to teach a class to the person in charge of making those decisions. And I’m exceptionally proud that, while my faith is occasionally shaken, I can realize that it is a temporary pitfall on my path and I can choose not to live or wallow in that lack. So I choose to let the lack go.

I smile, and feel profoundly grateful for all the good in my life. I take time to send prayers and positive energy to those who need it. I feel my faith restored and welcome back that deep peace that comes with the knowledge that right here, right now, everything is exactly the way it is supposed to be.
How would you define faith? What do you do when your faith is shaken?

Thank you for your contibutions to help Haiti. And this week, let’s consciously and constantly follow the Golden Rule.

Baby Girl,
When you arrived all cranky and I held you, I didn’t know quite what to think. ” I’m not so sure what to do,” I told you, “but I promise I’ll do my best, and we’ll have a great adventure.”
The adventure began right away. You did not act like I expected you to. Sleep like a baby? Nope! Eat on a schedule? Nope! To you, eating and sleeping equalled surrender. Such stubbornness, such strength. Such exhaustion on my part. But I remember one moonlit night, standing on the front lawn barefoot in my nightgown, warm breeze, air heavy with tropical scents, your eyes at 2:30 bright as 8:00 am, me trying to figure out a way to get you to just sleep. I shifted you in my arms and held you up and you literally reached for the stars. And suddenly time stood still. The world was absolutely perfect and the way it was supposed to be, every sound, sight, scent was bathed in this quiet perfect love. You gave me presence that day, and I thank you.
You also gave me fearlessness. Whenever we set off on a new adventure you’d look in my eyes and I would smile and you would relax and know everything would be fine. And so it was. We moved to Columbus and then to Chicago and wherever we were it was home. We had our routine that comforted us both, the lullabyes and stories, the snuggling. The sharing of our days. I would listen to you and you would ask, “What do you think?” And I would tell you. You would listen to me and I would ask you what you thought, and you would tell me. And I can’t tell you how often your young wisdom astounded me…. You showed me the importance of true listening, and I thank you.
You taught me emotional honesty. You always knew what you were feeling, and could rationally express it. Even when you were a crazy tweenager you’d say “MOM! I’m angry/sad/happy/frustrated because it’s MY AGE!” You felt it all, didn’t hide it, didn’t exploit it. And now, you’re dealing with the difficulties and trauma from the past with unbelievable strength and maturity. Sharing these difficulties with me forces me to unbury all my emotions and bring them to light and let them go, too. Thank you, for your help and for your forgiveness.
You’ve taught me to stay steady in my dreams, to work hard, and to stay true to myself. You were the dancing underdog, starting years later than everyone else in your class. But your determination and hard work and pure joy in the art never, ever wavered. You never skipped practice unless you literally couldn’t get out of bed. When I felt you were short-changed in a part you forced me to keep quiet. It was so not about your ego, it was all about your love of dance. And when it was your time in the spotlight you were the most magical of Mary Poppins. I hope you always dance as if the whole world is watching! Thank you, my beautiful ballerina girl, for your gracefulness and artistry, and showing me pure joy…
And while I will always feel the imprint of your four-year-old hand in my palm, thank you for the wonderful friendship we now share, us two women. I still listen to you and tell you what I think. And you still listen to me and tell me what you think. And your wisdom still astounds me….
Thank you, Angel. You have always been my gift and my blessing, and for you and to you I am deeply, profoundly, grateful.

I love you!

Momma