Is That True?

I've been thinking a lot about the archetype of the orphan child these last few days.  In classic literature, the orphan has to have the experience of abandonment in some form or another (vis-a-vis: Harry Potter, Luke Skywalker, two more recent popularized orphans), in order to experience strength and self-reliance.

In the study of Caroline Myss' Sacred Contracts, everyone is born with a child archetype that they work with as part of their 'contract'.  Orphan is one that is often chosen because many, if not most, people recognize that they have repeatedly felt abandoned over the course of their lives.  The dark side of the orphan is either about creating needy surrogate family situations or pretending to not need anyone (the "I am a Rock, I am an Island" scenario, sung by Kenny Rogers and others).  A healthy orphan experiences a strong personal sense of self-reliance, including the awareness of successfully working, living and succeeding solo, and at the same time does not shut others out.  An orphan working with light attributes finds themselves more in the realm of interdependence, capable of comfortably working singularly, and also capable of working interconnectedly, but without demanding excessive participation from others. 

One of the stories told by orphans is that life is hard and they have to struggle to obtain or achieve anything that they might desire. The funny thing about orphans is that they can be wildly successful, and they have had to really, really, really work hard at it.  Nothing can ever come easy to an orphan, because .... well, it just can't.  Nothing is allowed to be easy, because then the orphan story might be recognized as the story that it is, and not the truth that it isn't.

I had a challenging and somewhat disconcerting interview this past week and was wildly successful (see the bread crumb trail?).  As I settled in for the night, I was ruminating on that particular series of events, because I also know that as a spark of the Divine Mind, I create or at least co-create every event in my life.  In the wee hours of the morning, I awoke with the sudden and overwhelming realization that the orphan story, which has been a predominant story in my life, was just a story and was not actually the truth.  The truth of my being is that I am a beloved child (or adult) of God and that all things work together for my good, no matter what I may have previously experienced or thought. 

So I got busy reframing my story, recognizing myself, first and foremost, as a divine spark, one for whom the world is a joyful open book with loads of cool possibilities and luscious opportunities.  I was even mostly able to remember that when the cable company managed to delay the installation of my high-speed internet, again. 

And so it goes...

Chapters, 26Jun12

Yesterday I went over to Casa Grande to the last charity quilting day at Kokopelli Quilts.  Sandy is closing up the shop, moving back home to Missouri to be nearer her biological family, to play with her grandkids and great grandkids and watch them grow up. It was a bittersweet day, commemorating so many happy times, such joy, such sharing, community and bonding among these women who gathered monthly to work on quilts to give away to people who they would likely never know.  When I heard that the day had finally arrived, which we all knew would come eventually, I told Sandy that I'd move heaven and earth to be there.  I did and was.  I gathered my partially completed give-a-way quilt, additional fabric bits, and my portable sewing machine; I also tossed in my current crochet project that has to be completed by this Saturday for a baby shower.  As I drove the 80+ miles to the shop, I reminisced about the many days, weeks and months, all the many quilts, and all the camaraderie that lives in my memory from those days. 

The night I made an offer on my Arizona City house, I was at loose ends in Casa Grande and wondered whether any of the local quilt shops had open sewing on Thursday nights like they did back in Houston.  I drove by Kokopelli Quilts and the lights were on, so I stopped and went in.  A dozen ladies were sitting around, talking, laughing and quilting.  Sandy asked, "May I help you?"  I said I was a quilter who had just bought a house locally.  She said something to the effect of "Where have you been, we've been waiting on you" and I knew I had found myself a community, right then and there.  All I had with me that night, since I had flown in, was a crochet project.  So it was fitting on the last project day that I have a crochet project in tow. 

As we shared the potluck lunch, Mary gathered emails and phone numbers, so that she could re-engage each of us, once she finds us a new location for our gatherings.  Once she finds us a new home, the Kokopelli Quilters will continue to make quilts to give away to those in need for comfort, remembrance and solace.  The quilters will continue to have a rollicking good time doing it.  And yes, the baby quilt will be finished in time for the shower on Saturday.  

"I Love the Now"

Every time I hear Jimmy Buffett sing "I Love the Now" I remember that I always live in choice.  I, like everyone else, have the perpetual opportunity to live in this present moment, this right now, or to live in the past and operate as though the experience I am in the middle of right this minute is exactly the same as something that happened before.  Its easy to relive a memory and say "this is the same as that" because our minds like to pigeonhole events, circumstances and occurrences.  It's easy to do that.  Some would say it is even natural and appropriate.  If you are trying to avoid getting eaten by a saber-toothed tiger, or stomped by a Brontosaurus, it makes some sense to remember how one set of circumstances seems very similar to a previous set of circumstances.  In fact, even subconsciously translating or projecting from someone else's story might save your life if you are operating in survival mode. 

Our bodies react to our memories exactly as though they are actual real-in-the-moment events.  In a recent Spiritual Thought from our Sunday Celebration Services, Ernest Holmes (from A New Design for Living, p. 130) says "In whatever aspect of living we desire a betterment - be it in respect to health, abundance, or happiness - we have to know that it is ours now.  We establish the pattern now, we accept what it is now, we know that it is our experience now.  There is no difference between thought and thing.  There is no time element in Mind, nor need there be in out mind.  Whatever good we desire must be accepted as the present reality of our experience.  Only now can it exist."

If I create a fear situation in my mind, my body acts fearful, releasing adrenaline and cortisol, and my body gets ready to fight, flee or freeze.  Basic physiology again.  The bad news, according to the physicians and psychologists who study such things is that this internalized fear state, which may have been created by something completely imaginary, causes an internal physical-chemical stress on the body, and has a long lag time before the body can even begin to come back to its own balance, equilibrium and well being. 

What if "this is not that"?  What if this apparently threatening situation isn't really inherently threatening?  What if the Universe is predominantly a safe place and that all the events in my present experience can be viewed from a positive and supportive perspective?  This doesn't mean I'm going to be stupid and step out in front of a bus to see what happens, but it can mean that I don't automatically interpret a conversation, and impression, or a look as antagonistic from the start. 

Feels like a happier way to live to me.  

I Think I Can, I Think I Can, I Think I Can...

We each remember the story of The Little Engine That Could, that we first read as children and then some of us read it to our children  (and some even grandchildren) with the not-so-very hidden message that no matter what the obstacle, if I think I can overcome it then I will put my muscle and mind into it and I will succeed.  We tell ourselves and our children this story, and it is a true story.

Holmes tells us this again and again.  It is one of the main operating principles in the Science of Mind.  "Law of Life is a law of thought -- an activity of consciousness -- the Power flows through us.  The Spirit can do for us only what it can do through us.  Unless we are able to provide the consciousness, It cannot make the gift.  The Power behind all things is without limit, but in working for us it must work through us."  (SOM 141.2)

The way I read these words, and ponder that dear old childhood story is that I recognize that I choose what and how I wish to experience my life.  We all do, whether we know it or not. 

Patanjali said, “When you are inspired by some great purpose, some extraordinary project, all your thoughts break their bonds: Your mind transcends limitations, your consciousness expands in every direction, and you find yourself in a new, great, and wonderful world. Dormant forces, faculties and talents become alive, and you discover yourself to be a greater person by far than you ever dreamed yourself to be.”

I'm going for an ever yet greater, more expanding, joy-filled life ... and I 'think' I can.  How about you?

Where I Look From Determines What I See

Say what? 

When riding to a work site with a colleague, he was bemoaning how nothing was working the way he wanted it to and how unfair life was.  It was his favorite litany, his well-worn groove, describing how he experienced his life.  The next thing I knew, a sparrow fatally dive-bombed itself into the windshield of our rental car.  Startling to say the least, it reinforced my colleague's perception about everything wrong in his life.

While stopped at a red light today, I saw a single dandelion growing in a sidewalk crack.  It was perfectly formed, tall and proud.  Glorious.  It brought to mind an incident with the homeowners association (HOA) where I used to live.  Texas was having a drought then too; we were on water restrictions.

One November day, I got a nasty-gram from the HOA about the weeds in my front flowerbed.  I looked.  It did need weeding, so I did.  In December I got another nastier nasty-gram on the same topic.  That letter I ignored, because I had weeded and thought it looked pretty good for a flowerbed in winter.  In January, I got a very irate nasty-gram which said that they were going to send someone out to weed my flowerbeds, and send me the bill, because obviously I was ignoring them.

So I went outside and looked again, determined to see what they saw.  Eventually it hit me.  They weren't recognizing my flowers as flowers because they were different than everyone else's flowers.  What I was recognizing as native plants, they saw only as nasty weeds.  I went inside crafted a letter, letting them know I wasn't ignoring them, I had in fact weeded in November upon receipt of their first letter.  I also explained that I had worked with a horticulturist who specialized in native plants that could prosper in the absence of supplemental irrigation, since we had been limited in our water usage for a while.  I offered to have this horticulturist speak with them about plantings that would be better for the environment, if they were interested.  The silence deafened.

I also recognize the truth of this viewpoint when it comes to interpersonal situations.  If I believe someone is basically on my side, then I am more likely to take any apparently challenging comments as useful and if I believe someone does not have my best interest at heart, I am much more likely to take it badly.  Its just human nature, and at the same time, its a decision over which I have huge choice about.

As Master Teacher Jesus said, and Holmes so often quoted, "it is done unto you as you believe".  It is this perspective that I strive to look from and my belief about the world and how it works that determines what I see in my world. 

Is this true for you, too?

If the Phone Doesn't Ring, Its Me, 11Jan12

There's a line out of this old Jimmy Buffett song that I finally understood last night, "If it takes all the future, we'll live through the past.  If the phone doesn't ring, it's me."  That lyric has always puzzled me.  I wondered if it wasn't some kind of curious time-space continuum problem.  Last night, I glimpsed what the Caribbean songmeister was singing about.  We are each and all always reliving our past, and thinking that the present experience is the same as what we have previously experienced.  This is the same as that, right?  If our remembrance of the previous experience was a positive and supportive one, then our interpretation of the present day experience (which in itself is inherently neutral) is also likely to be, at least initially, positive.  As we know, "it is done to us as we believe", therefore we perceive, create and interpret the present experience in light of what we believe about and selectively remember or reconstruct from our past experiences.

This morning I'm at the car dealership getting my car serviced.  For two years after I moved to Arizona, I got my car serviced under warranty, at the dealership in Phoenix and they took exquisitely good care of my car, and by extension, me, and were attentive to my curious questions and peculiar concerns.  I felt valued by them.  When I moved to Tucson, I chose to shift my car servicing to the local dealership and really did expect to receive the same level of care.  I was shocked to discover that they didn't have the same level of customer care, nor did they really seem to care that much.  Finally, I pressed the point hard and received virtually the same service for the same monetary exchange, but I could tell that it was offered under duress.  When we completed the agreed number of services for the agreed number of dollars, they were clear that the offer would not be extended.  So today, I'm back at the dealership because I initially purchased extended warranty coverage for 100,000 miles.  When that coverage ends in 15,000 miles, I'll see what happens.

So what's underneath that?   What's the old belief about myself that I am reliving, again and again and again, until I get a new perspective on it?  On some level, do I feel like I need to work or "fight" for how I want to be treated?  Sometimes.  In my much younger days, I would seldom stand up for myself, and I would say 'please and thank you' for whatever came my way.  And I allowed some exquisite unkindnesses to just steamroll through my life, claiming all the while that these nasty things had to be for my highest good.  At the same time, I also repeatedly experienced massive and extraordinary kindnesses.  So, what's the basic recurring, repeating, reinforcing storyline in my head?  Is the universe a predominantly safe and friendly place, or do I need to fight for what I feel is mine?  Do I automatically assume those I come into contact with are against me, or that we are working on the same quality of life?  I choose to think of my universe as friendly.

I just love manifestation in real time.  The new young service rep just told me that they would take care of 'the thing' that had been niggling the back of my mind for about 10,000 miles.  Cause and effect.  Perhaps this reframe is about speaking up for myself without feeling like I need to fight for it, and allowing the universe to give me what I claim, which then frees me up to stop living the past, pulling more of my energy into present time, and live more fully in the Now.

Sunday, 3:11am - Shut up and Drive

In the wee hours this morning I was reflecting on a conversation with a friend when I blurted out "Shut up and Drive".  It wasn't intended to be offensive.  I wasn't even intending to say it.  I thought the quote "Shut up and Drive" was from the movie 'Thelma and Louise'.  It isn't.  It's the title of two very, very, very different songs, neither of which I ever remember hearing.  I feel like somehow we are each being sandpapered and polished to do *great works* that only we can do.  And only we can each do them.  I don't like that thought and yet, at the same time on some level, I feel like its time.  And it's right.

It sounds incredibly big-headed, too big for my britches and some part of me just wants to shrink over to the corner and vanish into the wallboard instead of doing *this thing*, whatever it is.  There are times that I feel that Marianne Williamson quote (about being frightened of our own light, our own brilliance) taunting me, chasing me down the street, pointing and laughing.  I don't like it at all and I'd just as soon go iron a shirt, clean a toilet, or something incredibly, routinely and safely, mundane.

And yet...

One Sunday morning some years ago, I spoke at a Spiritualist Church in Houston.  A friend had asked me to speak on the Harmonic Concordance and I said, "Sure, why not?"  I didn't even know what it was, but I figured I could pull stuff together.  I had taught 7th grade earth science for two years, I could certainly do this.  So I started reading and studying and thinking and gathering information and nothing, absolutely nothing would come together.  There was no flow, no form, and no sense.  As the date got closer, I intensified my striving.  Finally the weekend of the talk rolled around and I still had nothing but jumbled words and I was beginning to really sweat over it.  The night before the Sunday morning talk, I had only the barest hint of anything and I felt like it was garbage.  The morning of the talk, I cobbled together some things, disjointed but adequate and I went and did the talk.  I was only relieved when it was over. 

And then, being a Spiritualist Church (a completely unknown commodity to me), the host, my friend, asked if anyone had received any messages for anyone else.  Several people stood and delivered messages.  I became fascinated, completely curious, about what I was observing.  Then this diminutive man in this three-piece brown polyester double-knit suit stood up with a message for me, the speaker.  So i stood up, as I had seen others do and he said something to the effect of, "You had three angels standing with you when you spoke; the biggest guardian angel I have ever seen, a scruffy drunk Irishman angel and a little blue haired fairy angel.  The Irishman angel was shaking his head sadly and said something like, 'she's never going to just trust and speak, that she will always have the words she needs.'"  I sat down dumbfounded and wrote his words down precisely.  I still have the feeling in my body.  Holy cow.  I heard that challenge, and responded.  Never again did I massively prepare a talk - even technical ones.  I'd do the charts and graphs and the ubiquitous Powerpoint slides, so I could show people what I had seen, but I never, ever wrote another talk.  And it has always worked.

Two owls are hooting outside with each other at this moment.  The cadence: one-and-two, three four ... who are you not to be?  As soon as I write these words, they stop talking to me.  This feels like a similar challenge and I don't know presently where it is headed.  With a knot in my stomach, I say 'yes'. 

You?