365 Lessons-Lesson 46: Dreams Really Do Come True and Those Who are Living Their Dreams are Clearing a Path for YOU!

You've heard it in Pinocchio, "When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are, when you wish upon a star, your dreams come true." Fantasy, fairy land nonsense, right? WRONG! This morning Laura Munson, the woman who wrote the article Those Aren't Fighting Words Dear, http://www.nytimes.com/2009/08/02/fashion/02love.html , which sent the comments section of the column Modern Love in the New York Times into a "frenzy," reached out and contacted me via a friend of a friend of a friend. She sent me a long e-mail which eventually led to a long conversation on the phone this morning. After writing 14 unpublished novels and a number of unpublished articles over the course of 20 years, she finally got her break from this article. Her book, which is a available for pre-order, is This is Not the Story You Think it Is: An Unlikely Season of Happiness

I couldn't help but feel my heart sink a little. While it's great to hear the wonderful things happening in the world to so many people, it's human nature to think, "Why hasn't that happened to me?" I also submitted to Modern Love at the advice of my editor, but got a form-letter response telling me that they could not use my article at this time.

All my life I've heard people say words like get real, get a real job, get a real life, get with the program, stop living in your dreams...society feels more comfortable with these words for some reason. Who made it this way? Why do we succumb to the status quo? Every single person we admire in this world, we admire because they lived their dreams...their dreams came true. So what the h*** are we doing? Why do give in..and give up? Why do we let it all go? Why don't we persevere? Why is it that only a few people out there really "make it" or really do have their dreams come true?


I came to realize that we all, individually, call the shots in our life. We decide, no one else does. What you believe is what you choose to believe. PERIOD.

After talking to Laura on the phone this morning, my sinking feeling left me. Laura now seemed like a beacon of light or someone clearing the path for others to live their own dreams. I realized that after years of hard labor, Laura's one-pointed focus and belief in what she was doing paid off. When we see the success of others, we often think that all they had to do to get there was tap their heals together like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz and say, "There's no place like home" and Voila, that's it! Not exactly.

My mind shifted even more after realizing that, on the phone this morning, Laura felt like someone I knew all along...someone who was a bit further down the path, but was there to assure me to keep walking; that it was worth the effort.

Lately I feel so fortunate to be connected to SOOO many people who feel this way. Just today a new author on Writers Rising, Angelguided, wrote a piece called Miracles . I couldn't help but feel how timely this was after talking to Laura this morning. I feel like a huge wave or shift is happening. The more we decide to go with our intuition, this force, the more it clears the path for others to go with it too. It's incredible! It's not the work of one person, I honestly and truly believe it is collective. How can you not help but want to get on the boat?

"I'm ALL in," as my husband says, how about you???

MIRACLES

I have learnt an important lesson over the past few days. When you want something to happen and you are pushing and going against the grain, nothing comes your way.

When you release expectation and get into the flow, miracles can happen. You may not even realize it as a miracle, depending on what your perceptions are of miracles.

Miracles can be those amazing situations where through all adversity a positive outcome so amazing happens, which leads you to believe it can only be created by God.

Miracles happen all the time and we pass them by as just a coincidence, or imagination because they are not big or amazing enough to be classed as a miracle.

Notice the miracles around you, start with the dawning of a new day and the sunset at the end of the day. The snow drops, the dew, the wind and the rain. Why do we not see these as miracles?

When my mood dips and I feel alone I do not notice what is around me. The snow is a nuisance, the rain is just wet and the wind messes my hair. I don't care much for the sunrise, other than it is another day dawning full of the same problems. I gladly wait for the sunset as it signals the end of another 'terrible' day.

Amongst all this low feelings something happens. You may not notice it at first, because you are so wrapped up in feeling terrible. Then out of the blue, you receive the e-mail you were waiting for or a friend or even someone on T.V. says something that pulls at your heart strings which stirs something wonderful inside.

You may not correlate the feeling with what was said at first, your friend may not have been consciously aware of it either, but what has just happened is a miracle. A moment in time when you feel connected and not alone.

Of course, this may not be enough to get you out of your low mood, but it may help you to notice all the other miracles around you. You may notice the hues of the sunrise, the beauty of each snowflake, the freshness of the wind.

Miracles are normal occurrences, just because we don't notice them doesn't mean they are not happening!

(This post is found on my blog angelguided)

Introducing...S. Dawn Sievers & Healing Morning

Hello to all my fellow Writers Rising!  My name is Dawn and I am the author of Healing Morning blog, which is my everyday approach to spirituality.  I write about topics that capture my imagination, touch my heart, make me ponder deeply and most importantly inspire me to write.  (Btw, my apologies for the fuzzy quality of the attached photo - I'm working on getting some new photos done and will tweak that in the near future.)

I am, to my very core, a writer.  It is the most enduring trait that I have.  Being very aware of the fact that I suffer from what I call "Low Boredom Threshold", I can state with confidence that it is an impressive feat for one specific trait to remain solid beginning from my earliest childhood years through to current adult years.  Writing is that one constant and I fully expect to continue writing for the rest of my life.  It has been my solace through difficult times, my joy in happy times, my source of income for the past nine years and has brought me full circle in the past 18+ months, right back to joyous expression.

I discovered the genre of blogging in September 2009 during a time period of inner searching, born of the conscious desire to stay useful with writing as I wrestled my way through a stage of transition.  I had no idea that that one small step would culminate in such a rich odyssey of discovery.  I created my personal blog, Healing Morning, and went on to connect with fellow bloggers.  I then discovered that blogging "lives" quite visibly in the world of Facebook and Twitter, so I joined various blogging groups in those formats.

That lead to a partnership with a fellow blogger and the creation of a new Facebook blogging group called Authentic Blogger, and a subsequent creation of a sister blog, The Authentic Blogger, all occurring in December 2009.  The exposure of Healing Morning blog posts there and in other blogging groups connected me with Katherine Jenkins and we began to learn of one anothers' respective blogs.  This past weekend of Valentine's Day 2010, Katherine invited me to become a contributing writer here with Writers Rising. 

I was delighted to accept and very proud of this nod of recognition for my writing and the ideas I present at Healing Morning.  I found the correlation of this invitation happening on Valentine's Day weekend to be rather lovely - I see it as a unique gift that celebrates the love, for me, of writing.  A very apropo virtual Valentine card to me, from Spirit/God/Universe and Miss Katherine, and appreciated more than any gift of flowers or corporeal card.  It is a nod to the thing, the act, the creation of what makes me happiest and defines my Spirit. 

It is perhaps of note to comment that I am a southern writer, raised in East Tennessee, so you might often hear phrasing and southernisms sprinkling throughout my writing.  I find beauty in the unique, lyrical cadence of my southeastern roots, and I celebrate it, quite consciously, in my writing. 

I look forward to becoming an active member of this wonderful community and see that I am in very lofty company.  I already follow many of the blogs featured here and am friends with many of these gifted authors.  I hope that readers here at Writers Rising will find my blog posts to be a source of inspiration, humor, quiet strength, unexpected joyful moments and those indefinable experiences that touch the heart.  That is why I write and what I always strive to achieve with my work. 

Synchronicity

Apparently I have lot of synchronicity. Do I? I wonder. What is synchronicity exactly? Naturally I consult Wikipedia which is slow to open and while I wait I hope it’s a good thing. In between reading Wikipedia and writing this post the word has turned up 3 times.
Synchronicity is like a coincidence but it isn’t. It’s when something you read, or someone says hits a nerve, and when disparate events and information come together in meaningful ways; an A HA! moment. And yes, I’ve come to expect it. There are people in my life now (and also in my past) that are there to teach me a lesson. The Universe provides.
Full stop. Except it is also something that my mortal mind cannot fully understand much like quantum physics. Examples of it in action provide the gist of what it might be, but not a firm crystallisation of the concept. It is not linear.
Perhaps it is something not amenable to verbal description. Pragmatics makes me start questioning – what is it for? I can feel the discomfort in the pit of my stomach from not being able to pin it down. Much like religious beliefs and spirituality, synchronicity is the connection between something much bigger than us and what is inside our heads.
I have written this post in an attempt to discover why this word has been sent my way this week. My understanding is still hazy I know but it is the best that I can do.
I can feel something coming to me.

Adorned

Look at the dewdrop
that rests upon
a leaf,
adorning it with a sparkle
on a cold winter's morning.

As the leaf sways
in the light breeze,
the dewdrop dances
and twirls
its way down
to the leaf below.

Breaking into ten dewdrops,
now a chain of pearls
on the leaf below.

A gust of wind blows
and the pearls
are tossed away
to a budding leaf that emerges
from a strong stem
as it grows.
Hopes. Believes.
In a day of sunshine.

Now greeted with a necklace
of pearls,
a glorious welcome
into this world.

No leaf is too small,

none too weak

nor a tad too yellow

to be the bearer of nature's jewels.

Each one precious enough

to be adorned

by a sparkling dewdrop,

on a cold winter's morning.

(Also posted on my blog)

Writing Fiction

Hello all! I can't believe it's been so long since my introduction on the site. I have been interviewing for and just received a new job at my company. My focus has been there and now that I'm settled on a new position, I can sit down here on Writers Rising and write thoughtfully.

One thing I've been thinking more about is writing fiction. I've been writing some short essays, descriptions really, of people I encounter in New York. On the subway, in coffee shops, on the street, as I'm waiting for the elevator. It's helping me keep my ears wide open.

Here is a link to one of these essays that I've been working on. I'd love to know what you think!

Is it in the cards?

        The one inch wide opening in the lid of the shoebox waited to swallow the validation I needed. The foil covered box with the randomly applied homemade hearts and adorned with ric-rac was what my young soul needed to help me know I was someone’s Valentine. The annual gesture of love and appreciation bestowed upon me from my peers finally arrived to where I would get the small folded tokens I desired to feel acknowledged, adored, perhaps even loved. Although the ubiquitous cards were as abundant as ticker tape in a hero’s parade, I cherished them as if “Be Mine” were a personal message from each young lady I had a crush on. Her personally scrawled, yet awkwardly scribed signature in the “from” line was intended for me to know it was from her, to me. Due to my initials: A. A. (Anthony Anders), I often sat in the first chair, first row, and got the first Valentines. I liked to feel, me getting the first cards was intentional. I see now getting them first was coincidental, getting any at all obligatory to each and every classmate. I still felt special. It was my choice.

        Later--- years after the tradition of placing the bi-folded gestures in a home-made box waned, I noticed a new tradition of exchanging flowers surfaced as a new way of dividing one another of those who had the adoration of another or others (plural) and those who apparently did not. Like feathers in the warriors head dress, the conquests visible for all to see, we were given the opportunity in our school as a fundraiser, the ability to buy flowers for our targets of affection. There were always the individuals who had bouquets so bountiful, they had to make trips to their locker to drop off the new acquisitions, to make room for more; and there would be more. I also remember the faces as they would light up with hope as the delivery person would appear with a bundle, and ceremoniously call out the names one at a time to pass out the tokens of love and adoration. I too remember the eyes of many cast downward in sadness as they were passed by. The problem being not only being passed by, but to get passed by again and again, in front of their peers, and then to leave school that day with no flowers in hand, both male or female. It must have been a long trip home feeling forgotten, unloved, and that the whole student body knew it. I can verify at times it was hard.

        As life progressed and the ability to take a date to a place nicer than one that has a clown for a mascot or super-sizing being part of the menu; I noticed the Valentine holiday became pressing as the awareness of being in a relationship, love, or even being “in-like” with someone was brought to the foreground of one’s priorities as the holiday approached. The “love holiday” often nudged us to realize we are to be coupled, to be searching for, or celebrating the love we currently have, or to get on the ball. Who wants to be eating take out Chinese on a TV tray watching movies on Pay-per-view, when the whole world is out on the town, in a romantic embrace, often paying twice as much for bad service in a dimly lit bistro? I remember feeling, “What is wrong with me?” “Damn you Hallmark”, I would curse to the heavens. I recommend Hunan Lion off Bethel Rd.

        My bitterness has long since faded as I refuse to substantiate how I am loved, by how many, or to what degree by the receipt of a card, flower, or chocolates, (Although I still love all the above.) I also find it hard to feel that 1/365th of my year is the benchmark to the relationships in my life as well as if I am worthy of love especially in respect to whether or not I get a physical token.

        I have been with my wife going on twenty years total, and we exchange our tokens. (She likes Anthony Thomas Chocolate covered strawberries.) I know enough about women and wives to know not to fumble there. If I do the story better include terrorists. I enjoy holidays as much as the next guy, but I have matured to realize that the gesture on one day does not make or break my love for others and the worthiness of receiving it. I also realize that even if one thinks that it is a “Hallmark” or consumerism holiday, it is often only a couple dollars and a few minutes investment to make a difference to those who cherish the gestures we bestow upon them consumerist or not. Most importantly I have found that the best Valentine was not created by Saint Valentine, but by Alexander Graham Bell. You can call your mother or father. You can call your kids. Call your spouse. Call your friends. If this is too personal for you, perhaps an electronic nod in the direction of those you appreciate or love is always nice to receive. Make Facebook worth your time for once. Take a lead from kids who make the best valentines, and I treasure every one I receive from mine (see above for this year's). The loving intention behind making the connection is a valentine in itself. One we can also do the other 364 days of the year.

        Love does not have to be reciprocated to be validated. Someone does not have to be aware of our love to make it real to us. Sometimes we have to love at a distance. What we send out, we get back. Remember this, don’t forget to love yourself. Show in your own best way to express your love for those who matter in your life. Profess your gratitude to your friends for their presence in your life. And finally, spend more time expressing your love than you do picking out your valentines.

I love you all! Happy Valentine’s Day 24/7/365...

           * Note - This post also found on my blog