Between My Ears

I often wake up to prickly negative thoughts that speak with exaggerated authority, pushing their way into my mind…into my day. I respond with an internal flinch, and a sigh of distress, as I slip out of my bed, already dreading the day. I surrender my day without much resistance, believing the lies that nip at my heart, “you’re a fat fool ...and a failure” they say, stealing pieces of me until there is little left for living….or loving. Who would have thought I could surrender so easily, waving the white flag at the first sign of an attack without a fight or even a proper argument. But this is how the thief of souls comes; stealing in the morning when the sun is still dim and the dew of my dreams still fresh on my heart. Stealing before inspiration’s tender green roots find sure ground, robbing me of the tidbits of my truth before they have a chance to feed my spirit.
Life doesn’t have to be this way and I know it. I know it because I have tasted the sweet waters of inspiration, and seen how they nourish; bringing precious gifts of light and hope with them. Instructing me on how to fight back, and reminding me of who I am…who we all are. That we are special and here for a purpose, but as long as we stay distracted by negativity we will never truly fulfill that which we came here for; the unique purpose that sets us apart as individuals and makes us special.
Some days start with truth and light, and for those days I am grateful. But on the dark days, and there are plenty of them, I need to remember to fight back. To center myself with my God and listen to the Spirit speak to me about my life and who I am. When I do this I find life is a joy and not an endless chore. So, why do I allow myself to fall so far before looking up? Perhaps it’s a habit of my fallen nature. I find habits of the flesh seem to come naturally but habits of the Spirit must be fought for and won.

A Thanksgiving Experiment

Thankfulness is something I rarely feel when rushing through my busy day. I’m usually too busy honking at the car in front of me, meeting deadlines, and picking the slowest line at the grocery store. My day swirls before me, and I get sucked into it like a vortex, spinning around, seeing everything, and yet noticing nothing.

So, with Thanksgiving coming up I decided to set one day apart and make a conscious effort at being thankful. Doing this would mean I would have to engage in the moment, instead of blasting through my day like a meteor through the stratosphere.

As I began my experiment I noticed it took great deal of discipline to pull myself out of my head and back into the moment, kind of like having a conversation with someone while your mind is elsewhere, but my effort was soon rewarded by a number of pleasant surprises. Firstly, was waking up in a comfortable bed next to a loving spouse, and knowing that we would face the day together, like army buddies, no matter what life brought to our door.

Later, stepping outside to walk my dog, I noticed the smell of the morning, and how it carried with it memories from my childhood. I found myself profoundly thankful for the ability to walk as I strolled down the road with my faithful dog leading the way, and the birds chirping out a happy soundtrack to the scene.

As the day progressed so did my gratefulness. Browsing the supermarket isles I thought of the countless times I had cursed the chore, complaining about not knowing what to buy for supper. But on this day I was stunned by the multitude of choices offered to me, and humbled by the painful truth that the majority of people in the world do not have the same wonderful choices; or even enough food to sustain them.

Being in the moment has opened me up like a spring bloom, causing me to gush with thanks for nearly everything, from freedom and health, to my favorite chair and beach sand between my toes.

Noticing the way my daughter’s eyes brighten at the mention of her dad’s spaghetti sauce fills me up way more than any Thanksgiving day feast ever could, and eavesdropping on my macho son while he baby talks to our Chihuahua, makes me grateful for the tenderhearted man he has become. All of these ordinary things are sort of the infrastructure to my life, yet I ignore their importance, until something goes wrong with one of them.

Taking time to give thanks has centered me, and made me more content, yet, I can’t help worrying that within a week I’ll be back to my old ways of stomping through life and missing out on what really matters. Being human takes an awful lot of practice, but seeing the miracles within the ordinary makes it all worth while. You should give my little experiment a try.
Happy Thanksgiving!

Where'd My Mojo Go?

I’ve been feeling a bit insecure lately and asking myself….where’d my mojo go? I miss that youthful zest that came naturally to me, flowing like a foamy head of beer over the top of the glass.
I used to speak with persuasive fluidity, and feel the interesting pieces of conversation come together as I told my story. Now I stammer and search for the right words sounding more like a banker hooked up to a polygraph.
Although not stunning, I was always considered attractive and able to turn heads when I walked into a room. Now I feel as though I’m invisible.
When I smile my cheeks push up and crinkly lines surround my eyes like sun beams. So, I seldom smile, and although I look mad most of the time, I look ten years younger.
My hair is turning white and wiry, like one of those little terrier dogs; only I’m not as cute. Every couple of months I visit a trendy, and expensive, salon, where a spiked out 24 yr old girl with a Bluetooth stuck in her ear, giggles and chats away to her invisible friend while tugging and pulling at my hair like she’s in a corn shucking contest. When the entire process is over I hack up $100.00 dollars for the treatment, $20.00 for a tip, and when I get home nobody notices the difference.
My ample bosoms have headed south and I now resemble those topless pictures in the National Geographic Magazines that I use to snicker at as a kid. Gravity bites.
Where’d my mojo go… my magic essence, my touch with dancing with the world and the people in it? I need my mojo. My mojo is me with “attitude”.
Maybe that’s the key. Perhaps my attitude is off. Maybe I’ve been looking at things from the wrong angle. Like looking at the negative space around block letters, and all you can see are the shapes, but when you relax and find the positive spaces, you can read the word. That’s it! I have been looking at the negative spaces instead of focusing on the positive substance! Perhaps if I stopped skulking around like an abused dog and began to dwell on the positive things about myself my mojo might return?
Where’d my mojo go? No where. It’s just been waiting for me to remember who I am, whether the world agrees or not. My mojo is spiritual, not self-conscious or guilt ridden, and rests confidently in its ability to navigate through the twists and turns of my life. I'm the only one who has the power to turn my mojo on and off, and in the end I can count on my mojo to always be there to inspire me. Phew...I'm glad that's settled. What a relief!
Has anyone seen my libido?

Picking My Poison....Voting

I’ve had nearly a week to reflect on the choices I made last Tuesday at the polls. Yes, I voted, but it wasn’t the empowering experience I had hoped for. As a matter of fact it was almost embarrassing, and I’m sure the suffragists who fought for my right as a woman to vote were rolling in their graves at the sight of me having a panic attack as I made my choices. I was overwhelmed, having heard more name calling and finger pointing than a third grader at recess, and I didn’t trust any of the candidates. I can’t figure out how, in a country with a population of 308 million people, I am being offered such lame choices. It was a “pick your poison” kind of choice… let’s see, do I want professor Plum in the library with the candlestick or Colonial Mustard in the kitchen with the knife….yikes! I did some online research, trying to figure and out where the candidates stood on the important issues, but when I finally got close to an answer on an issue I found they’d changed their positions. The candidates, it seems, like to change positions more often than the Kama Sutra. I voted my conscience, as best I could, but I may have fared better if I went with a couple of old reliable methods I’ve used for making important decisions in the past; …Eenie Meenie Miney & Moe, and the coin toss. Here’s to democracy!