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?

Because we can, 2Dec11

For some unknown reason, I was thinking tonight about a boss I had years and years and years ago.  He had just done something that affected our customers, and I didn't understand the reasoning behind what he was doing.  Being the bright young impetuous thing that I was back then, I asked him why.  He looked at me somewhat incredulously, shook his head sadly and said, "because we can."  I knew what he had set in motion wasn't illegal, immoral or 'wrong' (per se), but it just didn't sit very right with me.  And I clearly still didn't understand what was going on, and was also fairly certain I wasn't going to get a different reply even if I asked again.  So I let it drop.  Or at least I thought I had.

What I've come to realize is that I've taken his dismissive "because we can" and I've turned it around many, many times over the years since that day.  Most of the time, I remember that I have a choice how I handle any given situation or circumstance.  I always have a choice.  Even if I don't remember that I do, I still have a choice.  I have a choice whether to react to an incident in haste, or step back a minute and respond instead.  The tai chi practitioner in me knows that if I react thoughtlessly, they just 'got me'.  I have a choice whether to instantaneously feel disrespected or devalued, or try to see what's really going on from a larger viewpoint, a higher perspective.  

This doesn't mean I let people use me as a doormat, or that I go along with everything presented to me, because that would be silly, could be dangerous, and is often counterproductive.  It means, to the best of my ability, I pay attention and know what I am choosing and that I am choosing. 

And more often than not, I choose to respond kindly, or thoughtfully.... "because i can."  And I like that.  A lot.   

What if it's just feedback? 10Oct11

At a seminar I attended on Saturday, there was this one exercise that purportedly was about figuring something out, but in fact it was about how receptive we each were to receiving personal feedback from others to achieve a particular goal when we ourselves were stuck.  Most of the time I think I'm reasonably good with receiving feedback, heaven knows there have been plenty of opportunities.  This one particular activity though caught me by surprise.   When everybody else was getting help solving the puzzle, and lots of people were cheering and clapping as different people figured it out (always with help), I was trying not to notice that I wasn't in the circle, I wasn't figuring it out, I wasn't getting help and I was the last to complete the puzzle.  I wasn't happy about any of this.  When the seminar leader came over to where I was sitting and working alone and offered help, then within seconds of focusing on the guidance, the solution showed itself clearly.   The intended impact, though, had already landed because of my internal tension around this 'exercise' was massive.  And it got me thinking about my (sometimes) response to life in general.

What if it's all just feedback, information, or innocuous data?  It doesn't automatically imply anything about ability or competence or worthiness.  Shifting the perspective to neutral, rather than some historically-based judgment, it is just data.  Or as Johnny-5 (E.T.) would have said 'hmmm, input'.  Without any hooks, shame or blame, it becomes just information, just feedback for my expansion, awareness and growth.   That's a whole different take on the subject.

Hmmm.  Input!

The Night Sky, 3Oct11

I was awake this morning a little after four.  At first that disturbed me a little, until I checked in and realized that not only had I had six and a half hours of deep, sound high-quality sleep, I also felt quite rested and refreshed, so I got up.  And once up, I decided to go outside and look at the night sky.  I have always felt a kinship with the starry night, perhaps it was all those evenings of walking our family dog when I was growing up and we lived on an army base in Germany. 

This morning the moon had just set; the swath of sky immediately above my head was brilliant black and the constellations standing out in vivid contrast.  Venus, morning star, was brighter than moonlight, Cassiopeia, Orion, The Pleiades felt like dear old friends who had come to visit after being away for a while.  I realized in this crystalline moment, I felt inexorably... totally... at One with the All That Is and completely In The Circle.

Do you?  What pulls you In The Circle?  What pulls you out?

Its What You Do, 24Sept11

I've been thinking again.  Whether we actually create the events which occur in our lives is debated by some, and I'm not going to get hung up there, because there is a more important, and more manageable, idea I wanted to put out there this morning. 

It's not what happens 'to' us as much as what we do with that, how we think about it, how we respond to it, how we ruminate incessantly about it, etc., etc., etc. 

If I perceive that I have been slighted by someone and I don't do anything about it, except mull it over, it has a tendency to grow into this gigantic, miserable monstrosity, which is strictly a construct of my very busy brain.  So, to prevent this nonsense from happening, I have two choices.  I can try to talk with this person and see what's really going on (and discover, most likely, we were using the same words and not speaking the same language ... or maybe we were and there really is an issue to resolve), or I can let it go, really let it go, put it down, and get on with my life. 

It's seldom the events themselves, but it is what we do with them that give our lives great joy or great angst.  I choose joy.  Again and again and again.  I choose joy.

What's your Thrill Level? 13Sept11

I woke up this morning thinking.  Those of you who know me well, know this isn't much of a surprise.  Even the fact that it was 3 am when I woke up thinking isn't much of a surprise these days.  It just means there is a nap to be scheduled sometime in my near future, today.

I remember hearing a story, whether actual or allegorical I don't know, about a teen and her mother on a ferry crossing a large lake.  A storm kicked up and the teen was out on the foredeck of the ferry enjoying the storm.  The mother scolded the teen and told her to come in out of the storm.  The teen instead talked her mother out onto the deck to experience the storm.  When it was over they were talking about it.  The teen asked her mother what she was experiencing and the mother described her physiological responses, rapid heart rate, adrenaline rushing, sweaty palms... and described her fear of the storm.  The daughter then said that she was experiencing identical physical responses and recognized them as excitement.  

The I-Ching is an ancient Chinese oracle with 64 hexagrams.  One of the hexagrams is Thunder/Thunder.  In the translation that I use by Rod and Amy-Max Sorrell (called The I-Ching Made Easy) it expresses itself as "Shock, Surprise, Excitement, All Shook Up" and the description goes on to say "The shock of coming across something quite unexpected.  Scared and then excited.  First terror, then laughter.  The germination of a seed in the spring.  The stimulation of sexual arousal.  The subtle difference between terror and excitement.  Some enjoy the storm and some run from it.  What's your thrill level?"  My sister loves storms, her dog did not.

I tend to side with my sister and with the teen in the story.  As a rule, I perceive that things that raise my pulse are positive exciting events rather than something to be feared.  That's been my experience, and is my expectation.  But that's just me.