An ephemeral equation

www.flickr.com/photos/monster/466981669/

We're approaching the end of 2011 and I've taken time to glance back through my blog archives for the year.  Compared to the previous two years, 2011 was a slower pace of blog writing for me.  The year itself was quite full of challenges on myriad levels, and that's where my focus and energy went.  While I've never been one to embrace the concept of blogging daily, I do prefer to write more often than I ended up accomplishing this year. 

This post isn't about typical New Year Resolutions.  I've shared my thoughts on that topic many times since I began blogging (Just Say No!, Healing Morning 12/27/2010), so I won't revisit here. 

What I want to concentrate on is recent events.  I mentioned in my last post that life has improved slightly for me.  As a freelance writer, I live a constant roller coaster ride with keeping work in the pipeline, keeping my name in constant circulation with networking groups and attending as many of those networking functions as I can.  With that much activity happening on a monthly basis, you would think that work would be flowing with no problem.  I would think that too, but it wasn't the case for the year of 2011.  I have been through difficult, challenging times before, but I can truthfully say that 2011 rates right up at the top of the list of tough times experienced.

Why am I talking about this?  Because somehow, in the midst of a truly scary time where I couldn't imagine things improving, they did.  This is a quote from my last post:

"I have also just recently weathered some rather trying times where I wasn't sure how I would get from one day to the next.  The darkness that accompanied those challenges was quite intense and looking back, I have no idea how I managed to maintain even a wee shred of optimism and belief that good experiences were in my personal pipeline.  Somehow, though, deep within me, I did hold onto that small flame of belief.  That small flame of pure love, of pure healing, of pure manifestation....it all rested deep within me, despite the trying times."  With a Bright Spirit, Healing Morning 11/30/2011

I've been pondering this for the last several weeks, and even spoke of the whole experience with several friends.  What strikes my immediate consciousness so strongly is this:  somehow, despite all the fears, all the weariness, all the sense of self-defeat and borderline hopelessness, something within me stubbornly refused to give up.  Somehow, some small spark of Life continued to fight the battle mentioned above and I presented enough belief to manifest a new contract.  Let me stress that the environment of this new contract is as close to ideal as I can imagine.  No small wonder, that, as I did sit down and write out those particulars more than once during 2011.  What I speak of is sometimes called Life Mapping, where we write out our wishes and dreams for a specific purpose, then release the request with all its attendant specific details to God/Universe/Spirit. 

I've done that many times in my life, and I admit that there was usually a healthy dose of doubt in the practice.  This is rather amusing, considering that I believe in the concept for others wholeheartedly.  It was for myself that I held back, that I entertained doubts and allowed niggling voices of insidious poison to creep in.  That being said, I reference the above quote from my previous blog post and share the fact that something within me did persevere and refuse to completely give up.

Speaking with a dear friend on the phone during the week leading up to Christmas 2011, I talked about this realization and said,"Knowing that I was able to manifest such a wonderful result with this new work contract in the midst of such doubt, imagine what I can manifest NOW, as I am in a state of new awareness and absolute belief!"

That's magical and very powerful, that realization.  Universal Law, for those of you who embrace the concept, dictates focusing on those good, positive feelings.  Study the emotions and memorize how it feels to be in a space of abundance and happiness, so that you can replicate that feeling again and again. 

This is challenging for many of us, staying in that positive emotion, and I am no different.  My childhood mantra regarding finances is one that has programmed a negative energy for most of my adult life.  This is where I am focusing daily energy to shift that pattern and change the programming.  I am focusing on how I feel each day of this new work contract.  I am minutely dissecting how it feels to be happy, to have money flowing into my daily existence, to know that security is being established.  I am doing this so that I can amplify these emotions and project them outward so that this energy continues in a looping manner, bringing more of the same to my life on a regular and continuing basis.  The challenge of this mindset is that it is an ephemeral equation.  Belief is at its core, and happiness and positive emotions are the fuel. It is not a tangible thing at first.  Tangible results DO occur, but the belief and positive emotions must exist first.

At a holiday party, the question was asked of us to talk about not a resolution for 2012, but of something we wanted to embrace for ourselves on a purely personal level.  My thought was part of what prompted this very blog post, as I said that I had been thinking of how we behave as children.  If any child is loved, they have an inalienable sense of entitlement in the purest manner.  They simply believe that good things will happen and they believe that they deserve those good and delightful things.  If there is one thing I can say with absolute certainty, it is that I am loved in this life.  By friends and family, my life is richly blessed with love.  Somewhere along the way, however, I lost some of that childlike sense of entitlement to receive good and positive blessings.  Please note that I use the word "entitlement" in a positive manner, as it can carry negative connotations.  What I am speaking of is that manner children have of believing in magic.  I write about it quite often and I still carry a firm belief that magic exists, but I was also putting up roadblocks to receive good and positive blessings for myself.  I am in the process of recapturing the sense of how that feels....that sense of entitlement in the purest, most innocent and faithful manner.  Faith and belief are key words here.

So, if there is anything even remotely approaching a New Year's Resolution for me in 2012, it is to continue to give daily thought to amplifying and projecting my current level of success so that it can continue and increase in ways I have yet to imagine.  I remind myself of my comment above to my girlfriend that so much more is possible.  Limits are things we impose on ourselves out of fear.  That much I know to be true, and it's something that I've excelled at over a lifetime...getting in my own way.  I choose, now, to excel at getting OUT of my own way and existing in abundance.  I know it is possible.  I am living the result of my own wee kernel of belief that refused to be extinguished during the travails of 2011.  I believe that that wee kernel of belief, that tiny flame that flickered valiantly in the midst of a great big boatload of darkness can be stoked.  As I write this, in my mind's eye that tiny flame is growing into a nice, healthy bonfire.  It warms my hands and face as the flames rise.  Rather than being a destructive force, this is the kind of flame that does not consume in a negative manner.  Or perhaps it does....perhaps the consuming is of those negative thoughts. 

Whatever the case, it is clear to me that I can build this fire.  I can increase my own prosperity.  I can embrace the belief that I deserve success in multiple areas of my life.  I can release my death grip on doubt and fear. 

Many years ago, I was given a writing assignment to come up with a definitive sentence to describe what I wanted out of my immediate experience.  This was the sentence that I came up with:

"I want to be like the fluffy seeds of the dandelion puff.....releasing from ties that bind me to a single existence to ride the winds of Life and be unafraid of where those winds will take me."

 I find that sentence, that statement of intent to be a good one for the New Year of 2012.  To all of you who continue to visit me here at Healing Morning and offer so many beautiful comments on what you find here, I wish you a beautiful New Year full of blessings.
_________________________________________
If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me at Healing Morning blog.

Birthday Realizations

I turned 30 last Monday. While I used to wonder why people felt shy about announcing their age, I think I'm beginning to understand. As I approached this milestone last week, I began to feel more like I was marching to the grave than I ever have before. It wasn't necessarily scary, but it made me re-evaluate all of the expectations I had held of myself. Like, "When I'm 30, I will have accomplished xyz. My life will be settled and I will be a boring adult." For better or worse, I haven't quite managed to achieve most of that.

This summer my aunt said to me, "You're almost 30. You should know how to clean a shower curtain." Funnily enough, I missed that lesson in the manual of life.

Most days, I still feel like an ignorant kid. But when I was younger, I had more confidence. I was sure I'd amount to something great, like a famous politician. But once college came around, so did the questioning of many systems, including the political and legal ones, as well as society, ideology, gender... In short, I became confused. Which I have remained to this day.

If that means I still don't know how to clean a shower curtain, then so be it. I'm busy living my life the best way I know how. And only I can live it!

Re-posted from BeckyBlab.

With a bright spirit

Photo:
http://flickr.com/photos/dancing_sun/4064774892/

Healing.  The word itself is evocative.  It conjures up an immediate visceral response with attendant mental images...memories, fears, dreams, wishes.  Good health is vital to every living organism on this Earth School of ours.

When I think of healing, I think automatically of love and of Light.  The pure vibratory expression of love is the most powerful form of healing in existence, in my opinion.  When love is present, our whole body just relaxes and sighs, luxuriating in the peacefulness of that beautiful energy.

We know from a medical perspective that those who are happy, who feel loved and cared about, who receive regular hugs from loved ones - these are the people who heal more quickly, and who have stronger immune systems.  I have always found the healing strength of such a simple thing as a hug to be profound.  A simple embrace, the hug, and yet that simple thing can boost white blood cell count in the human body - the part of our blood system that fights off infection and wards off opportunistic illness - and sustain a sense of calm well beyond the physical experience of the hug itself.

Just the act of writing my thoughts about healing is increasing my own vibration - I can feel it as I type the words and thoughts.  I spent a good part of the 1990s working as a massage therapist, but was never truly fulfilled in that career.  The healing part and the knowledge of the human body fascinated me, but massage therapy in and of itself didn't really fit for me.  What did resonate was energy work; what many might recognize as the Biblical "laying on of hands", or in the traditional medical world, it is called Therapeutic Touch among other names.  I learned that I have an innate ability for energy work, and to this day, although I no longer practice as a massage therapist, I still embrace energy work occasionally.  It is effortless for me and is a gift I can bestow upon anyone in pain, whether it is physical, mental, emotional, or as is most often the case, a combination of all of these.

When I stepped into the unknown world of blogging over two years ago, I had no idea what I was doing with the concept.  It was something I was trying on for size to keep my mind occupied during a very dry period for my freelance writing career.  I've spoken of this before and I will doubtless bring it up again - the title of my blog, Healing Morning, was divinely driven.  I knew I wanted it to have something to do with healing, and the word "morning" was a play on my name, Dawn.  At the time, I had no idea how absolutely appropriate a title this would be, or how the title would grow with me as I grew in my blog writing.

You would think, as a result of the strong healing energies around me over a lifetime, that it would come as no surprise that this healing energy would translate into my writing.  Yet, it has been a surprise.  I did not know, to begin with, that my writing would touch others around the world and instill a sense of peacefulness, calm and healing.  That was a vague goal, but at the time that I created this blog, I had thought to focus more on a clinical type of writing application.  Instead, I found that I was being drawn to write from my heart and to allow a level of transparency that I had never dared to embrace.  I began to share very private concepts here, and opened up about my spiritual side in a manner that I had rarely done before.

Again, to my surprise, the articles that I wrote that exposed very personal aspects of who I am, and my healing and intuitive abilities - those articles have, without fail, turned out to be the ones that have garnered the most interest, the most written comments and the most support.  I've learned over the last two and a-half years that when I've written an article that makes me more than a little nervous about publishing it, this is when I'm writing and channeling a level of truth that needs to be shared.  And that energy is received in similar fashion...in a very positive, honest manner.  People respond in kind and tell me they feel a sense of peace here.

So, I continue to grow with my blog title.  I continue to grow in my healing abilities and I continue to learn that my previous horizons are constantly being broadened.  It is a very surreal experience at times.  Just recently, I began to recognize a return to that childlike sense of creation that we tend to lose as we age.  Children have an innate sense of acceptance that all will be well; they have an equal belief that good things will happen simply because those good things are wished for and anticipated with a bright spirit.

I have also just recently weathered some rather trying times where I wasn't sure how I would get from one day to the next.  The darkness that accompanied those challenges was quite intense and looking back, I have no idea how I managed to maintain even a wee shred of optimism and belief that good experiences were in my personal pipeline.  Somehow, though, deep within me, I did hold onto that small flame of belief.  That small flame of pure love, of pure healing, of pure manifestation....it all rested deep within me, despite the trying times.

And then, in the midst of an admittedly scary phase, I felt the shift beginning.  That knowing, that awareness that I've always had grew inside me.  I clearly remember feeling it happening and I admit there was a bit of a struggle....a bit of lingering doubt that it was real.  Yet the sense of rightness was so strong that all I could feel was delight and a sureness inside.  A glowing, expanding welling of liquid, golden, pulsing brightness is how I would describe it.  That is what the energy of pure love looks like to my mind's eye. Many who practice various healing modalities will point out that various levels of healing energy carry different colors and textures.  I don't dispute this.  What I am describing here, that golden, pulsing brightness is how I experience healing at its most profound.  If I could invite you into my heart to see it and experience it the way that I do, I would do that very thing.  Since I can't do that, the next best thing is to write it for you and create the image and the emotion, the textures and vibrations with words.

This article may seem to have very little point....just a jumble of thoughts about healing.  I don't argue that point, as I'm writing from a stream of consciousness perspective, just allowing the thoughts to flow from my fingertips.  I will go back and read through this and see if the progression is strong enough to publish the article.  I think it will be, because I feel that same sense of rightness as I type the words.  This jumble of thoughts is going to make absolute sense to someone...perhaps many someones.  You will read this article and smile and nod, recognizing what I am attempting to convey.  Your own deep well of healing energy and love will respond and there will be that magical "click" from me to you.

In this way, in this fashion, I continue to heal.  Myself.  My readers.  The very air that I breathe in and exhale.  The earth that I walk upon, as this energy overflows and spills down from my hands and flows through my feet as I walk.  For those who study esoteric concepts of healing, this will make sense.  For those who trust in the simple process of honoring the physical manifestation of that spark of the Divine translating into human form, it will also make sense.  For those who are searching and wondering, looking for something that will lead them deeper into self-discovery, perhaps this article will light a new Divine spark.  It's a beautiful and never ending cycle, of course.

With a bright spirit.  This is how I write this article, at this moment.  That would make a beautiful t-shirt slogan, yes?  Healing is such a bright thing, yet very calm and sure.  Peaceful and quiet, but also exuberant and full of that childlike sense of delight.  I was asked to write an article with the word "healing" as the focus.  I sat down to write and did so with a bright spirit.  My hands are literally buzzing from the extreme level of energy that has been prompted as a result and I accept that manifestation in the same way....with a bright spirit.  With a bright spirit, my friends.

With a bright spirit.

___________________________________
If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me at Healing Morning blog.

Tom Cruise & Toasted Sandwiches

Well here I am home all alone with Tom Cruise, Kelly McGillis, Richard Gere & Debra Winger having a Top Gun of a night with an Officer and a gentleman.

My boy is over at his mum’s this weekend, all my extremely limited friends are busy with their real lives and I’m so shit broke I’m not game take the car out of the driveway. Mind you I should be used to the being broke bit as I can’t remember the last time I had any free money to spend on myself, but that’s another blog to write.

I’ve been flipping through Facebook and all the Blogs that I follow most of last night and today just to kill time and have come to the conclusion that “ I have No Social Life ”, unless I am being an employee for my boss or a father to my son there is currently nothing else.

I seem to have lost the part where I am an individual, that fun guy that way – way – way back in his 20’s used to have a long and distinguished list of friends who he would invite over for dinner and cards all the time. That individual who used to love going to the casino to play roulette. That individual who used to love camping and exploring the world around him.

Now not to say that I am not still interested in all of the above but somewhere on the road between exuberant youth and responsible middle age I seem to have lost all my friends, my money and my direction.

Now this has me thinking, yerh I know … “ Warning, Warning Middle Age Male Going Through A Mid Life Crisis Is Attempting To Think ” … Run people Run !

My son is 14 years of age and is looking at getting his learners licence ( car ) in about one and a half years then his official licence twelve months after that, at which time he will blossom into a young man that will have his own transport and will no longer need to rely on the OLD MAN for a social life of his own ( Until he needs to borrow money to fix the car or put fuel into it ). Now this is the part where I am starting to think …. Fact 1, My son will be independent in about two and a half years …. Fact 2, Once my son is independent he will no longer need me to be spending all of my existence on him … Fact 3, Once I am not required to reserve 90% of my awake hours for my sons social life I will have the freedom to do whatever I want, when I want ( except for work hours ), I will be able to go out with my friends without having to plan two weeks ahead of schedule, I will be able to enjoy the Casino or Poker competitions without having to plan two weeks ahead of schedule, I will be able to go on road trips and camping trips without having to plan two weeks ahead of schedule, I might even be able to go to the movies or out to dinner without having to plan two weeks ahead of schedule …. Fact 4, I have no friends and have forgotten how to do all of Fact 3 …. Fact 5, “ Oh Crap ”

Now don’t get me wrong at all about this Blog, I do not regret for one second running around after my son ( and NEVER will ) and it is not possible to love him or be more proud of the young man he is becoming than I am of him but I have realised that I have sacrificed my self-identity too much over the years and have a fork in the road coming up that if I am not careful and better prepared for could put me into a spin that would be hard to recover from and cause me to crash and burn ( sorry, another Top Gun metaphor ).

Well, time to go make my toasted sandwiches for dinner, curl up on the couch with my dinner and a cold drink, Flick Tom & Kelly on, settle back and to get in touch with my feminine side with no witnesses.

Till next time

Thanks for reading.

If you enjoyed reading this post please drop by " The Soap Box Truth "

Quiet voice

Photo: www.digitaljournal.com

If you're a regular visitor here at Healing Morning, then you're aware that I do my best to focus on positive topics. Occasionally, something happens that isn't necessarily a light, happy topic and I do discuss these things here.  My goal is to always find the positive in the midst of the whole story.

This week, I experienced something on a personal level that was alarming. I was followed home to my townhouse complex by someone who saw me at a gas station/convenient store.  When I say I was followed home, I mean this was someone I didn't know and I am convinced this person had very negative intentions in mind.

The whole situation played out in about 10 minutes' time, from start to finish, when I left the gas station and drove home.  This was after dark, and I was alone, which is exactly why this person chose to follow me.  A single woman, alone, unfortunately provides what most think will be an easy target and victim.

When the vehicle pulled into the lane of my complex, I was still inside my car.  I had a couple of things happen that I now believe saved me from harm, and very possibly saved my life.  Because it was dark, it's not always easy to see the numbers on the parking spaces allotted to each unit.  My next door neighbor's car is usually my marker to recognize my own parking spaces, but he wasn't home.  Because of this, I had parked two spaces over from my own numbered spaces and I was on the verge of backing out and pulling in again to the proper parking space when this vehicle appeared.  It was driving very slowly down our lane, and at first all I could see were the headlights.  Once it got level with my location, I recognized it to be an SUV that had been at the gas station when I was there.  That started the niggling feelings of doubt, because no one on my lane drives a vehicle like that particular SUV.  It drove on past me and I expected it to go down the hill to the last two units on this lane.  It didn't do that.  It pulled into the parking spaces allotted for the management office, then reversed, pulled back out and drove towards me, pulling into my neighbor's space. 

At this point, alarms were going off in my head.  I waited to see if this person would get out and go into one of the town home units and they didn't.  The next time I glanced over, the SUV was empty.  Again, I waited, but couldn't see the driver standing anywhere near their vehicle.  I was far enough away that I should have been able to see their feet on the other side of the car, but it appeared no one was there.  Thinking they had walked back down the hill, I did something incredibly stupid.  I got out of my car and shut the door, but didn't lock it.  Immediately, this guy popped around the end of the SUV and headed straight for me, walking fast.  I, in turn, yanked my car door open, got in, slammed the door shut and locked it.  I made sure to look him dead straight in the eyes and he veered away, walking past my car and started talking on his cell phone. I started my car and left, driving up the hill into the subdivision that backs up to the property of my complex. I parked where I could see the entrance of my lane, shut my lights off and waited.  About three minutes later, that same SUV pulled out and left the neighborhood.

Several years ago, a book came out called "The Gift of Fear" by Gavin de Becker.  I remember watching an Oprah show with him as the guest, and his comments stuck with me.  Trust that voice of fear.  What I can now clearly recall was that as soon as I saw the headlights of that vehicle turn into my lane, I was instantly on guard.  Something felt wrong.  As the rest of the story played out, I felt that sensation stronger and stronger. What I also experienced were whirling thoughts and a lot of self doubt.  Women are raised to be polite and that very habit has most likely caused many unfortunate deaths over the years.  The young man who followed me that night was clean cut, nicely dressed and appeared as pleasant as could be in the convenient store of that gas station.  He even smiled at me as I walked in.  I did the typical response of smiling back.  When I was sitting in my car watching this whole thing play out, I experienced moments of doubt where I was rationalizing everything.  "He's probably lost."  "He must be a relative of my neighbor."  "He's just parking here and walking down to those last units."  All of those thoughts could have caused a terrible outcome if I had acted differently.

Reflecting now, I realize that my "mistake" of parking in the wrong space is probably what saved me from harm.  If I had parked in the correct spot, I would have already been out of my car with arms full of bags, my purse, keys, etc., walking to my town house by the time that SUV drove down my lane.  This guy would have been able to drive right up to me, jump out and grab me or do whatever it was he had planned.  If I had been at my door, he could have run up and forced his way in behind me.  So, that "mistake" was the main thing that changed the outcome that night.  The other thing was my own instincts.  I am not exaggerating when I say I could literally feel a sense of urgency pressing in around me.  Perhaps it was my angels or Guides, or God/Universe surrounding me and attempting to communicate to me to not get out of my car, and to leave immediately.  Whatever it was that I was sensing, I paid attention to it and I'm alive and unharmed today as a result. 

It can be argued that I misinterpreted the whole situation, that this young man had no ill intentions.  I do not believe that to be the case.  The fact that he left the neighborhood after I drove away is a pretty telling sign.  Now I am left with a very unpleasant sense of not feeling safe in my own home.  Although I didn't walk up to my unit and identify specifically where I live, common sense indicates that I live at one of the units of the building I was parked in front of.  I have taken steps to beef up the security of my town house and am looking into purchasing firearms for the house and possibly to carry with me.  Mace will become a regular tool in my purse and on my key ring. 

I've often said that as we live our lives, endless layers are stripped from our rose colored glasses.  This incident definitely robbed me of a certain inalienable sense of safety that I used to carry around with me.  All that I did was stop to get gas and pick up a bottle of water and some snacks on an evening after dark had set in.  That's all.  I wasn't in an unsafe neighborhood.  I wasn't dressed provocatively.  I wasn't rude to the young man in question; to the contrary, I was my typical friendly, smiling self.  The harsh truth is that we live in a world that harbors people of dark nature.  Those people don't need a reason or a trigger to urge them to make dark choices.  Because of the choice that young man made, my life has changed forever.  I don't know that I'm going to feel safe in quite the same way that I used to.  That's not necessarily a bad thing.  Many would argue that a healthy sense of suspicion and fear is a good thing.  I don't disagree with that concept, but I do refuse to adopt a victim mentality or demeanor as a result of this experience.

The person that I spoke to at the local county Sheriff's Department told me that the fact that I stared at this guy, looked him directly in the eyes, was probably one reason he veered away from my car.  I was told that by doing this, I made it clear I was not a victim in a very primal manner.  I don't know if that is true, that that action made that much of a difference.  I'm more inclined to believe that being in a locked car made the biggest difference, but I'm sure my direct stare made it clear I wouldn't hesitate to use my car as a weapon if any threatening moves were initiated. 

The outcome of all of this was a happy one.  I am safe and nothing happened that night other than me getting a big dose of fear.  I have done all the right things, following up with the Sheriff's Department and filing a report about the incident, informing the management people at my complex, and taking steps to increase my own personal security.  By doing all those things, you would think I would feel nice and secure, but I expect that will take a while.  I haven't slept well since this occurred; I've been jumpy at night every time I've heard a car drive down the lane I live on.  I suspect that's absolutely normal. 

As for my rose colored glasses, they're still on my nose.  The rose color has been impacted, I admit that, and it may take time for the color to come back to a stronger tint.  I refuse to let this experience permanently damage my outlook on life.  As many have pointed out to me, I was able to think on my feet, even in the midst of panic....and believe me, I was as scared as it was possible to feel when this played out.  That answered a question for me - I had always wondered if I would be the type to crumble in the midst of true crisis and fear, or if I'd be one of the ones who is able to function and think clearly.  Now I know.  I'm capable of very clear, logical thought, even when I'm in a situation where I am feeling unsafe and threatened. Although I did make one colossally dumb mistake - getting out of my car - I acted quickly to turn that around and everything ended well.  The only regret that I have is that I wasn't in a position to get the license plate number of that SUV.  I would have had to get too close for that.  The gas station has surveillance cameras on site, and they have been made aware of what occurred, with dates and times.  The police report has been filed and is on record.  I am hopeful that this person won't harm anyone in the future, but something tells me it will happen.  I was fortunate to make the right choices in the midst of my own experience and didn't come to grief.  Some other woman in the future might not be that fortunate.

For whatever reason, my own experience ended well.  I paid attention to my own instincts and I'm okay.  My emotional state and sense of personal security took some blows, but those will rebuild in time.  I'm writing about this experience primarily to get it out of my system. That's what writing does for me.  I'm also writing about it here to remind everyone that dangerous people are out there, dangerous circumstances can surround you without a moment's notice, and how you react is going to impact the whole scenario.  If you haven't read "The Gift of Fear", I encourage you to purchase the book.  I'm including the Barnes and Noble website hyperlink to purchase it.  This is for the paperback edition and it is available in used copies for as little as $2.74.  If you're unable to purchase and read this book, then make an effort to be more aware of your surroundings.  I am speaking first to women, but this applies to both sexes.  If someone is intent on inflicting harm, they're very possibly not going to be picky about gender.

Finally, pay attention to your instincts!  If I had not done that very thing, I believe there might have been a very different outcome to my recent experience.  Happily, I'm fine.  Shaken, and changed as a result, but alive and well.  I'm also appreciative of the support of friends and family when I made this experience known.  Despite the fact that I knew this was not a good situation, I was falling back on "good girl" mentality and doubting myself, thinking I was unfairly judging the situation.  With the support and encouragement of friends, I became firm in my resolve to report this incident.  I am hopeful that by doing this, and by writing about it here, maybe other people will also avoid a negative outcome in their own lives.  Be safe, everyone, and pay attention to that still, quiet voice of intuition and instinct.  I believe it saved me.
___________________________________
If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me at Healing Morning blog.

Autumnal Hues

golds and gourds, 

goblins and ghosts...

 

ochres and oranges,

weathered and worn...

 

pumpkin and purple,

a plethora of plummeting plumage...



autumnal hues,

a blanket of seasons change...

Posted by Ryan @ Current Ripple
more posts (here)

Dream....Interrupted

It has been a while...but I'm back....with a poem about last night's alarm... and a picture of Maya when she was a baby...

Dream....Interrupted
The shrieking vail of the siren, another alarm,
and the dream implodes behind the eyelids
impaling them in thin, broken shards.

In between the up and down undulating sound
and the rocket hitting the ground
hard
there is a general silence
a huge breath holding
and them
the mighty
BOOM

we all exhale
and do a body check
a body count
is everyone all right?

"Mummy, who are the people that make the rockets
to kill mothers
and babies?"

Gather around you the tattered night
and go to sleep
my precious
you have to finish your dream.


Israel
Ashdod 2011

Soft stillness and the night

Photo: awesomestories.com

I'm feeling nostalgic tonight for some reason.  I have been browsing through my Drafts folder here at Healing Morningto see what snippet might jump out at me to elaborate upon and birth a new blog article.  This one seems to be it.  A stanza from William Shakespeare:

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank.
Here we will sit, and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears; soft stillness, and the night
Becomes the touches of sweet harmony.

I ran across this weeks ago, most likely on Facebook.  It brought to mind summer evenings from my childhood, long before the advent of cable television and the internet.  Indeed, at that time, we had three television channels and were lucky if two of them could be received on our antenna way up on the ridge where we lived.  Thus, many evenings during warm months were spent outside in lawn chairs doing this simple thing....talking.  And looking at the stars.

It was such a peaceful thing.  Being with family, visiting, laughing together.  Or just being silent and gazing upward at the expanse of stars.  Some nights we would spread out a blanket to lie on, and it was then that I would imagine that the stars would drop down to touch my face.  We lived far enough out in the country at that time that city lights didn't compete in the night sky and we could see the constellations clearly.  The Big Dipper and the Little Dipper were always easily discernible...and we would attempt to identify other constellations from the Encyclopedia. 

Balmy summer nights, filled with quiet conversation and cicadas humming in the background.  The scent of freshly cut grass, blooming roses and honeysuckle would hang heavy in the moist night air.  If it had been an especially good day, there might be the rare store bought treat of Jiffy Pop popcorn...that miraculous creation that we watched in fascinated delight on the stove top, the shiny aluminum dome poofing up as the popcorn popped inside. 

Those days are long gone, and I remember them fondly.  The Shakespeare snippet above brought the memories to mind, soft and misty, like an old photograph whose edges have been gently worn soft with time.  Ghosting along my mind's eye, hovering there with wraith-like purpose, insistent to not be forgotten. 


"...soft stillness and the night..."  The words bring a slight ache of wistfulness to go back there again, to that back yard in the country on that side of that ridge...and let the stars drop down, once again, to touch my face.
_______________________________________
If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me at Healing Morning blog.

Of life, death and living

May 22, 1991:  I had just gotten ready to leave for a picnic at the zoo with my friends when our neighbor rang the bell. "Did you hear the news?"

It was 7 a.m. Ma was in the restroom, Dad had just brushed his teeth. "No," he said. "Why?" The neighbor said, "Rajiv Gandhi was killed last night." We didn't even know how to react. The youngest prime minister of India. The most dynamic politician of our times. Gone. Just like that.

Mom's eyes welled up when she heard the news. It wasn't the age of multi-channel TV browsing; there was no internet; we read the newspaper; heard the story on the radio; and got updates by word of mouth.

He was 47. I, 13.

I vaguely remembered when his mom, former prime minister Indira Gandhi, was assassinated seven years ago. Mom and dad kept referencing that eventful day in light of Rajiv Gandhi's shocking demise. They were stunned that two members of the same family could be killed so brutally in less than a decade.

I didn't comprehend the politics behind the assassination, but I remember losing my appetite; feeling a sense of gloom and hopelessness; and wondering what could have been...

August 31, 1997: Woke up to this headline: Princess Diana Dies in Paris Crash. "Impossible!" I shrieked. How could she die? She was so young! An accident? What? The paparazzi drove her to her death? That doesn't even make sense. For the next 10 hours, I sat glued to the television.

BBC dedicated the day to an analysis of the circumstances in which Di departed. Then there were the wedding videos. The documentary on her life as an outwardly charming princess, inwardly depressed wife. Princess Diana wasn't even Indian! I hadn't followed her life history. I didn't see her regularly in our local news or on TV. But, still, her death affected me.

I remember watching the funeral procession; William and Harry with their innocent little droopy faces; Sir Elton John singing Candle in the Wind; Earl Spencer's eulogy; and the thousands of people who showed up at Buckingham Palace to express their grief over the untimely demise of the People's Princess.

Mother Teresa had died a day before Princess Di's funeral, but for some reason, even though her death was a bigger loss to the Indian people, Diana was on top of my 19-year-old impressionable mind. Such a fairytale-like life -- with some modern-day drama to boot -- coming to such a sudden, horrific end.

October 5, 2011: It was 4:35 p.m. on Wednesday when a colleague came to my desk and said, "Mansi did you hear thenews?" Her face was ashen white. I jokingly asked, "Who died?" and she said, "I just received a text. Steve Jobs just passed away." "No way!" I exclaimed. He couldn't have. I immediately went on Twitter. It was going viral with the news. #SteveJobs and #RIPSteveJobs fast becoming popular hashtags. But Twitter couldn't be relied upon (or perhaps, I just didn't want to believe what I had heard and was seeing). I called my husband who works at Apple. "What happened?" I asked. "Yeah...it's true," he said. "We all knew it was coming..." He was right.

Since August 24, when Steve stepped from his position of CEO, we knew he had very little time left. But still. For him to leave so suddenly ... a day after the new iPhone 4S was announced ... it just seemed so wrong. With him, even though the news was "expected," the shock was just as tangible and unexpected.

I felt the same deep sorrow I had felt first in 1991 and then in 1997.

I didn't know any of these people. I hadn't met any of them. And yet, I found myself mourning. That same feeling of, "This isn't fair," kept rearing its head ... and then that feeling of helplessness ... the realization that such is life ... the overwhelming feeling of mortality.

When Rajiv Gandhi died, I was nowhere near his age, and yet I felt he was too young to be snatched away from us. When Princess Di went, I  hadn't experienced love and marriage and yet, in her death I felt wronged. I wanted her to have experienced a happy life. She never got the chance.

And with Steve, as has been said over and over this past week, there is an undeniable sense of feeling cheated -- the man was a visionary with so much to offer the world. He transformed entire industries ... the way we interact and engage with devices and with each other. He shrank the world manifold while taking Silicon Valley genius into homes worldwide. With him it wasn't just a sadness because of the void that was created, but a deep, all-engulfing, extremely selfish sense of overpowering grief ... disappointment at being robbed of the chance to see what else his creative genius could offer ...

I wasn't the only "fan in the distant" mourning in 1991 or 1997. I am joined by millions of others all across the world in 2011. These three people couldn't be more different. Their contributions to this world uniquely apart. Their charisma, their ability to be a commoner while standing apart from the crowd, distinctly similar. Their impact all powerful.

They went too early.

In a world plagued with short-term memory ... in a life that seems increasingly fragile with each passing year ... these losses seem to stay. They are a reminder that life is full of unexpected turns. And that there are no guarantees .

At the risk of stereotyping, let me say that Indians have a tendency to save for tomorrow. It's almost in our DNA. We grow up seeing everyone around us "planning for the future" ... a future that they may not even be alive to experience. And we internalize it.

With Steve Jobs' demise and the memories it has raked up, I've become ever more cognizant of the fact that life is for the living here and now. Don't pinch corners for what will be ... what is, is all there is.

The three-year-olds I hang out with seem to understand that concept so well. They don't know what tomorrow means. They aren't aware of the concept. And everything in the past is simply "yesterday." That's really how simple life needs to be.

Today is all we have. Let's make the most of it.



This post originally appeared on my blog, First Impressions.

Your Creative Process?

Recently I've been thinking a lot about the so-called "creative process," thanks to a couple books I've been reading: Gail McMeekin's "12 Secrets of Highly Successful Women" and Oriah Mountain Dreamer's "What We Ache For." Some people, and I might be one of them, claim that humans are innately creative beings. But I'm haunted by questions: why must we try so hard to complete creative acts if the creative impulse is supposed to come so naturally? And why are only some things recognized as creative while others are not?

Innovation and creativity are buzzwords in the current economy, and it appears that success depends on them. But only to a certain extent--if we actually unleash all our creative impulses, all order would disappear. With the current torrent of technological advancements, it's easy to think that our lives are becoming more mechanical and less creative. Yet, even though technology can seem like the furthest thing from creativity, it was born through a creative impulse, an inspiring idea.

For me, I struggle to come to terms with my computer; we have a love/hate relationship. Years ago, I realized how vast a resource computers can contain, yet how much a drain it was to constantly sit staring at their screens and typing on their keyboards, not to mention the other, more subtle aspects like radiation. Now, it's as if my whole existence depends on my computer, yet I often can't stand it--especially sitting there nonstop as if I'm glued to it.

Often I will have an idea that I would like to blog about, yet as soon as I turn on the computer, it's as if my creativity shuts off. I love the ease of typing but my mind shifts into another gear when I'm in front of the computer. It's difficult to maintain focus on writing alone. Then, when I try to write with pen and paper, I find the feeling so awkward, it's as if I've almost forgotten how; through all the years of typing, I'm out of practice to write by hand and the letters sometimes get mixed up as they're coming on to the page. Have I suddenly become dyslexic from all the scanning I do on the computer? I never had great penmanship to begin with, but now it's all the more worse for lack of use. It's become encrypted!

Nonetheless, my urge to contribute creatively to the world pushes me to keep trying--to strike a balance between new technologies and the primal need to document my perceptions of the world on paper or virtual page. Like the cavemen who created the first tools just so they could paint their walls with images, so too I seek to use the latest tools available to enable my feelings and thoughts to take some form beyond my own head.

I'd love to hear from you in the comments: How do you balance the benefits of technology with its costs? What's your creative process?

Grasshopper Thoughts, Vol. V, October 2011

I've mentored many a writer in my adult life, taught many adult education classes on creative writing, and lent a helping hand to countless new bloggers.  At some point, the question always arises of, "What do you do when you get writer's block?"

That's the age old nemesis, isn't it?  Writer's block, artist's block, musician's block....it isn't career specific to just writers.  We all hit moments where inspiration just refuses to flow.  It has been 29 days since I last posted here at Healing Morning and this is outside the norm for me.  While I am not of the blogging daily approach, I do tend to write at least once or twice a week.  I won't go into the reasons for my recent dry spell, but I will share that the answer I almost always offer to the question above is, "Just write.  Don't focus on whether it's good or bad...just sit down and start writing. The very act of being in writing 'motion' will often wake up your writing Muse." 

Another favorite tool of mine is to Grasshopper.  If you follow me here at Healing Morning blog, then you're familiar with this concept.  Grasshopper Thoughts is a process of just allowing your mind to flit....or hop (like a grasshopper) in myriad directions with no logical focus.  I find it to be therapeutic to do this.  It can be as entertaining to write this way as it can be for people to read it, and it allows a glimpse into that writer's soul in a curious manner.  Little tidbits, little gems, little windows into who they are.

So, in the time honored tradition, I now commence Grasshoppering to encourage my own Muse to release her death grip on my normally prolific writing.

• I'm a fan of the good, old fashioned Emery board to file my nails.  Yes, I know that all manner of new inventions exist for this, including metal nail files that are touted to be better for your nails.  They don't work for me.  Metal nail files take forever for me because I'm fortunate to have nice, healthy, strong nails.  Nope, give me a traditional coarse grit Emery board and I'm happy.  Besides, those metal nail files make my teeth hurt with the sound they make on my nails.
• Some genius person took the Cool Whip concept and morphed it into chocolate Cool Whip - bless their hearts!  I'm not a big sweets eater and can go long stretches without eating ice cream, sometimes longer than a year.  It's just not a temptation to me.  Once in a blue moon, however, chocolate Cool Whip, still frozen is ideal.
• I opened an old book the other day, and from its pages fell a perfectly pressed sprig of Lily of the Valley.  I lifted it to my nose and it still carries that beautiful fragrance.  I think I pressed that flower there when I was wee, and it remains to this day my favorite old fashioned flower.  It was a delicate, floral time capsule moment to my adult self from my very young self and I was assailed with lovely memories.
• The last time I bought Crayons, they smelled different and I was devastated.  How could Crayola do this?!  Whose idea was it to tweak the formula?  No doubt it was done to save money, as that drives any corporation's bottom line, but it made me sad.  The aroma of Crayons is iconic, or it used to be.  It's still close to the original smell, but different.  These are the moments when I stubbornly dig my heels in against change.
• I was driving my Mom somewhere recently, just out running errands, and I said something to make her laugh unexpectedly.  We glanced at one another and smiled, that silent "I love you for who you are and how I feel when we're together" communication.  I'm blessed.
• Someday, someone is going to invent a way to prove that creative people are NOT airheads, dingbats or incapable of remembering things. We just think and process things differently, but we manage to get everything accomplished.  I'm serious - someday, someone will invent a way to quantify this fact. And THEN you'll all be sorry! ;-)  Just sayin.  *And if this way has already been invented, then I'm the first to cheerfully declare that I TOLD you so!  :)

I think that's plenty to get the writerly thoughts warmed up.  With luck, it won't be another 29 days before my next post.  For now, Grasshoppering has done the trick to shift the logjam loose a trifle.

_____________________________

If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me at Healing Morning blog.

at a loss...

I must admit that I have neglected my postings lately...

see these past 12 months have been filled with a whole shit load of loss... it's taken the proverbial wind out of my sails for the last little bit.. melancholy is right now, a very good word.

started with the death of my marriage last December, and all that come with the decision to end a relationship.. next comes the filing for divorce and a revisiting of memories of what I/We had hoped would be on into the future... the forms are printed, partly filled in and that is as far as I have gotten... the undoing of the promises and dreams, comes down to some procedural court filings and a countdown to the day they can be processed into the end of what once was...

then came the death of my dear friends 14 day old grandson due to a heart defect that could not be rectified.. that was a tough service.. so raw the emotions of losing such a wee one... so loved and nurtured during his short stay here on earth... how he touched the hearts of all of us who prayed for a different blessed outcome, that sadly was not to be...

those of you who follow my blog know that in June, I lost who I considered to be the matriarch of my family, my beloved Rita... who stayed with us and kept us hopeful for 5 weeks following her stroke... so extremely blessed were we to have the time we did with her before she peacefully drew her last breath and moved onwards across the horizon, leaving us shattered and alone... I still feel so blessed that she allowed me to be with her when she made her journey home, and that still brings me great peace that she drifted off so easily... it was my miracle to witness...

then, just 6 weeks ago, the news that a friend had passed after a tragic motorcycle accident jarred my reality as to the uncertainty of time we are allotted in this place... waiting for updates and eventually traveling to be with others to celebrate this young mans incredible spirit... tears, laughter, photos and fellowship rounded out a fitting tribute to someone who touched many...

and then again two weeks ago, the unexpected news that one of our team had passed suddenly overnight... complications of surgery undertaken in the weeks prior... the shock was palpable, she was an amazing Lady.. full of life and love for her friends and especially her beloved family... a true Angel here on earth, who worked with numerous community organizations, opened her arms and heart to whomever needed a lift, who was sooo in love with her husband of just 5 short years, her children and grandchildren who she adored more than life itself... if you wanted to see Linda glow, mention her family....

so here I find myself, on the other side of all of this loss and I am myself lost... I read back the words I have written about my life and how at it's end "it will not have been one moment longer or shorter than was precisely planned for my journey..." and I am no longer quite as sure... I understand that we are all headed in the same direction and that no one or no thing will stand forever, but this onslaught of "leaving" has jarred me a bit. These past months have seen more loss than the entire previous decade... I can say that my faith is intact, I am just lost within the questions of why, and when... how and when is my time... will it be peaceful, will we have the time to say our words to each other... why do the good ones get taken so soon...

I hold fast to the knowledge that I am loved, and that I Love.. my existence is filled with an array of amazing persons whom I adore... I understand more clearly that to love them and cherish them, adds colour and texture and depth to my world, and that it will also in time add sadness and grief as we inevitably lose one another... all part of the same painting, all plants in the same garden of life... for to love someone today, must include that they were brought into life to live their seasons, to flourish and then decline and fade away... just as summer roses or spring tulips burst forth into life, blossom and grow, and then fade at seasons end, so to will we fade at our seasons end...

so I guess I am "at a loss" as to how to catch my heart up to my head... time I know will smooth the emotions into memories and smiles of all who have gone on ahead... time will take the edges off of the grief and fill the garden with life anew... I guess time will walk my path with me... and time will allow me to say the words I need to say, will allow me to hold and touch, cherish and support.. and Love...



original post can be found here @ Current Ripple

Wailing Wall

I now bounce radiantly through every kind of light.

"Wailing Wall" was also published at Cynthia Pittmann's blog .( I would be honored if you, 'rising writer', would come over and visit my new poetry blog.)

Wailing Wall

Standing stiffly solid but mottled as a
mistress offhandedly accepting paper prayers
placed where our regrets continue to nest empty.
Why me words whispered on fallen knees…trite.
Nectar surrounds cold stone
compelling cravings for second and
third chances. Bleeding
deep mind-cuts are opening intensely.
I came to you as gentle as baby’s breath
but was torn piecemeal out of me.
Each shred examined,
used and stuck like a stamp on
letters to unwelcoming destinations.
Sighs unexpectedly chase our loss
reassuring the downtrodden
and naysayers: the wall remains static
on Yom Kippur. Wailers, stand silent
before hard and slippery walls.
It’s finished.
I now bounce radiantly through every kind of light.