Tag Archives: inspiration

NJ Aug. Workshop! Aligning with the Soul: Building Blissipline & Blessing the BS

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Hiya Seismic Souls 💛🧡💖

This month has been a doozy ~ emotions have been up, down and whirled around in the cosmic cray-cray 🤪​​​​​​​ If you’re in the NJ area, and you’re looking for a few wonderful hours of self-care, bodacious BS busting, inspiration, laughter and light,please join me for my workshop! 🎉

Aligning with the Soul:

Building Blissipline,
Blessing Our BS
(Belief Systems)
& Energizing Joy

☀️Come dive deep while lightening up!☀️

Daily overwhelm, doubt, procrastination, a wacky world and mind-boggling BS can hold us out of alignment with our soul’s vision. (And mercury retrograde came fully loaded!) By consciously questioning and reframing our beliefs, we open up to greater possibilities, self-love and inspired action. Difficulties are teachers for how to champion our true selves while living purposefully in challenging times. When conflict steps in, it mirrors what needs to heal, change and evolve within us.

Come practice aligning with the co-creative forces of our rock star souls. No matter what adversity comes our way, an open heart and mind move us to where Holy Shift Happens. Howard Thurman said, “Don’t ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive and then go do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” Join us for an interactive and lively workshop on how to shift our energy, raise our vibes, and stay in the present whoa-ment, woohoo! 💕 🌸 🌎

Saturday Aug. 25th, 12noon – 3pm
Cost: $50
AngelQuest at 81 Franklin Turnpike Waldwick, NJ 07463
To register, email Karen at lucelucina@aol.com
or call her at 201-825-4493
To see the full class schedule for 2018,
 🌟🌊
I hope you’ll give this gift to yourself 🎁
Looking forward to seeing you soon,
~ with lotsa love, higher vibes
& victorious visions, 
 Xo Julie
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
P.S.🌟 If you’re in search of some super-soul-end-of-a-sucky-summer-support, I’m offering a whopping 40% off all coaching packages.
Just use soul40 in the shopping cart. Or 
Email me and we’ll set up a free coaching call.  Tell me your challenges and choices ~ together we’ll find a way to destress that BS mess. I’ll be a devoted accountability partner so you can get your divine mission moving in joy. Your soul can use ALL of the darkness to grow, expand and enlighten up✨🎉

If you missed our pilot *pubcast* episode at The GD Spirit Pub, Check it out here!

What’s The Dream Your Soul Dreamed For You? New PODCAST❤

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FUN NEWS!

Megan McWilliams Bouchard (my BFF from eons ago – well, 1st grade, in this life anyway,) and I are collaborating on a new podcast, The GD Spirit Pub!

Our pilot pubcast is ready! Come listen to our tales of spiritual seeking (and sucking) and how our crazy choices at the Spirit Pub (while drunk on bliss) are turning out! It’s anyone’s guess – an ongoing mystery-thriller-tragedy-comedy with/for our earthy crunchy soulmates. Join us for a pint of joy and to enlighten up!

For more about the Spirit Pub and why we might choose a life on the rocks, read my new post below ~

I’m not, yet, “living the dream.” My fantasy life would be filled with total ease, unbridled joy, financial security, friends, family and daily organic smoothies at my ocean-front villa. Including a prosperous, spiritual, inspirational business that contributes to a brighter world. And I donate my energy and overflowing abundance to wondrous causes that make a dynamic difference on the planet. 

But that’s not my reality. 

Then it hit me like a forgotten love bomb – maybe I AM living the dream! Not the aforementioned money-filled Margaritaville, but the unstoppable dream my soul dreamed for me. The gritty one I chose from the Spirit Pub where I’d (willingly, joyfully) wake up on earth and promptly fall fast asleep to my true self. Where I’d be deaf, dumb, blind and stretched beyond all boundaries, through fear, loss, grief and dwarfism. Where my greatest self would dare me with the ultimate challenge . . . to forget my light. And yours. To walk in the deepest dark.

Then slowly, painstakingly, arduously . . . we’d get glimpses of the dream. The movie we wanted to create, here, and the bliss we’d temporarily leave behind. 

So scary! So exciting! What incarnation were we thinking? Maybe there’s nothing to lose and plenty to gain. We’ve got an eternity to play with. 

But. As I struggle to make peace with myself, my responsibilities, family, friends, health, purpose, work and unpaid bills, how can I be living the dream? The unbearable shadows? Messy relationships? Judgment? Rejection? Hatred? War? What kind of cray-cray cruel dream could THAT be!?

The edge-of-your-seat kind. The plot-twists-from-heaven kind. The leap out-of-your-skin-suspense kind. The super-hero-action-packed kind. The standing-ovation-at-the-thrilling-finale kind. The happy-ending after-all-the-mind-blowing-drama kind. The buttered-popcorn kind.

How long will it run? Who will stay by our side? Will we be safe? Where are we going, after all is said and done? Not knowing the ending feels nerve-wracking and inhumane. But as the excitement grows, so does the engagement, expansion, resolutions and redemption. They are the gifts – the inspirations. The life-changing journey reveals the light we never lost. 

Our fragile humanness cannot always grasp how the dark can bring strength, appreciation, wonder and grace, but our soul got the memo.  

We’d be creators without a clue. No idea how to drive our dinghy. Out of control. Walking across coals. Trial by freaking fire.  

Until we learned to let go. Surrendered to the bigger dream we dreamed. From our godlet visions. Our home away from Home. Then the creation would be in greater hands.

But amnesia would strike again.

We’d prowl like panthers, black as a nightmare, stalking the dream we once knew. Getting lost in a secret riddle. Obliterating our human hearts. Waiting for the dawn to break us open. 

Not just once. But every day. 

Each sunrise would give us another crack at being luminous. Being present to the fullness of the dream. Not just tropical drinks with an umbrella. But the yin, the yang and the yikes.

The contrast would elevate us, urging us to keep climbing the mountains we chose. We knew the view would be worth the bruises, Ray-Bans, and getting burned. 

We’d forget the sunscreen. 

Believing would be the balm.

When the old victim stories grow tiresome. When the anger becomes pitiful protection. We’re softened by the soul’s dream – forgiveness and joy creep back.

Before technically creating my Kokomo, I’m realizing that this IS the dream ~ the uncharted course my soul eagerly endorsed. Including the ups and downs. The stepping on pop-tops. I came for the whole shebang. 

I’ll look back and swoon over the the thrills and spills. I’ll think it was everything I dreamed. Sans the villa. I’ll be smitten with the love and won’t want to leave the pool party. I’ll be ready to dive in all over again.

I’m living that dream.
And so are you.

With love, and flip-flops,

p.s. for more about my Spirit Pub adventures, check out this past post :)

 

 

What Tick’s You Off?🕷Death and BS in the Circle of Life  

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Have you tried Native deodorant?? I’ve tried all the natural deodorants with super stinky results. But AT LONG LAST I’ve found an aluminum free and paraben free ANSWER! And the coconut & vanilla scent is divine. After a few months of using it (and it not letting me down, lol) I gave it the TRUE test run and used it at a speaking gig. Guess what? Plenty of nerves but no stank! CRAY CRAY! So I say with all my heart, and sweet smelling pits, GO NATIVE! It’s worth every cent. (FYI, I only endorse products I use and love. I’m an Amazon Associate, so I earn a small percentage of qualifying purchases.)


Hiya Radiant Renegades 

💙💚💙 I arrive at Green Diva Meg’s magical home, ready for a delightful stint of dog sitting. 10 days in the woods. 10 days of quiet. Daily walks around a beautiful lake with her devoted dog, Gracie. I get to hang with the heron and gab with the geese. A sapphire sky sprawls out before us. It’s heaven on earth. 🌳💦 🌊

Until. 

The cool camouflaged snake

A sign appears on my first walk. A snake!🐍 I feel so excited to have noticed her, wonderfully camouflaged along the trail. So much exciting life in these woods! 

Ten minutes later, my mood plummets. I see half of a mutilated snake, jaws gapping open in wide-eyed shock. Did it suffer? It’s just the circle of life, I say, trying to soothe my heart. I’ve always loved animals. But I’m pained by predators and not at home with the ways of the wild. 

The next morning, I notice one of the unique brown squirrels… and an adorable baby bouncing behind her! AW! 🐿 I watch them closely, totally enjoying their twitchy athletics. Later that day, I feel a sudden nudge to grab the binoculars and look out the front window (which I’ve never done – it’s partially blocked.) As I’m peering out across the lawn, a fox runs right into view! WHOA! 🦊 I follow the fox with my lens, feeling SO happy that I listened to the nudge. Then I notice a soft bundle in her mouth. Oh. No. As she’s running, she drops it! What the?   

Sunset on Meg’s lake

 The fox zips out of view and I swing my lens back to the motionless furball. What is it? Please not a baby bunny. Please. My heart is dipping into sadness & shock, once again. I wait awhile, but the fox does not return for the meal. I feel horribly compelled to go look. But I can’t look. But it’s right on the path where we walk. Crap. I have to look. No I don’t want to look. 

I’m gonna go look. 

I walk out across the expansive green lawn with Gracie, for comfort and courage. My eyes are glued to the spot where the sweet bundle lies. I’m braced for the bunny. 

But it’s a baby red squirrel. 

What. The. Hell! 

The circle of life… again!?!

I stare bleakly, as Gracie sniffs the adorable baby. Death makes me droop. Is the mama squirrel distraut? Why can’t I accept that death follows life?

The universe is being very loud. What’s the message? 

A few hours later, the lil body is still there. I’m hoping it won’t go to waste. 

Vulture perched above us

As Gracie and I head into the woods, there is a a loud flurry of flapping. A huge vulture lifts off the path and perches above our heads. 

All this LIFE in the woods, and Death will NOT shut up.

I text my hubby the eerie deets of the day. He sends a photo of a ginormous feather he found in our yard and writes, “it’s from a deep doo-doo bird.”

OMG vultures are circling.

Live snake. Dead snake. Live squirrel. Dead squirrel. Vulture. Vulture. Is someone gonna die??

Vulture feather (deep doo-doo bird)

I wake up the next day and find a deer tick embedded in my side 🕷 Nooooo! And there’s a bloody bull’s eye, already! ACKKKKKK! Invaded! After some pulling, pain and panic, I finally remove the beastie, but it’s black grappling hooks are left in my side. 

This is NOT fair! Nature is where I feel at home, in awe, connected, but now the glory of the Great outdoors is circling the drain! Why would the Earth attack me?

As I drive to the health food store, and talk to the naturopath, I resist the answer.

Mother Nature isn’t betraying me. My BS (belief system) is. My fears already had me circling the drain. I’m a wilderness wannabe, but I continually worry that my dwarfed body isn’t safe in this world. Vulnerable. Victim. Ah ha. I’ve become the prey I feared. My BS is confirmed! (BS would rather be right than happy.) 

Bonus BS – I have a deep distrust of the medical world, even though it’s come to my aid in the past. I DO NOT WANT antibiotics! But I know I can’t fool around with Lyme disease. I worship (and cling) to natural remedies. But I’m working to blend the two worlds, of medicine and metaphysics, without judgment.

I’m still terrified. And totally ticked. This tiny pain in my side brings old issues to the surface… and it feels like everything’s all WRONG… but maybe it’s to help me see that in the bigger picture, I’m always alright. 

Magical pond at Meg’s, early morning

At the doctor’s office, the nurse tells me she’s had Lyme’s for 28 years. As she’s leaving the room, she turns back, as if nudged from beyond, and says tenderly, “you know, ticks are a part of the circle of life.” 

My jaw drops open like the wide-eyed snake. 

“I canNOT believe you just said that,” I tell her. “That’s been going through my mind for two days!” 

“I couldn’t understand why God created ticks,” she said, “so I read up and found that ticks help clean up the environment. Like vultures. 

“No. Way.” I stared at her, gobsmacked. I feel a profound awe and relief. 

The lake where I stayed

We live in a dynamic, interactive ecosystem. It breathes through us and speaks to us, as us. Animals, water, sky, nurses and even ticks. Life and death are divine dance partners. We came here to take the crazy, complicated, courageous steps. To walk in each other’s moccasins. To dive into the dark and remember our own reflection of light. And to lovingly @#$% embrace our belligerent BS.

When we’re in deep doo-doo… it isn’t the circumstances that cause the lasting pain, it’s our beliefs about them. Fear tells us we’re alone, wounded, and the vultures are circling. The truth says we’re One with it all. We draw to our side (or embedded IN our side) whatever will bring up our BS so we can return to wholeness… and let go of the grappling hooks.

FYI I learned that ticks are a major food source for birds, reptiles etc. If we erased them (or mosquitoes, fleas, poison ivy etc…) we’d further mess with the balance of nature.☯

We already live off the Earth quiet mindlessly, and yet she’s a forgiving host. We complain about insects and inconvenience… and yet our collective footprint melts glaciers. Kills bees and trees. We’re the predators. In my tiny tick-attack, the tables were turned. Circle of dark and light.

What ticks you off?
What’s sucking the life out of you?
What fear needs to die, so something better can be reborn in you?

Meg’s dog, Gracie & the setting sun

Fighting our troubles is a form of violence against ourselves. We add to our suffering by insisting that life be other than “what it is.” When we reject what the foxy universe presents, we miss the hidden bundles that heal our inner wild. 

When the old BS is circling, our prayers are bringing unexpected answers. Take that leap of faith. Accept life with an open heart. Trust your soul’s nudges. And smile across the mysterious wilderness.
With a deep bow.

💞✨ Sending lotsa love and light,
☀💚 in the circle that moves us all,

P.S. The oldest known fossilized tick was discovered in a piece of amber in NJ (where I am, lol.) It’s 90 million years old! They must be doing something right. So let’s keep on ticking… just like they do.

 

✨ SITE WIDE SALE! 
Woohoo! 

20% off EVERYTHING!


My artwork, book, magnets, bookmarks, cards and all coaching!

☀ Just put summer20 in the shopping cart’s coupon box & your entire order will get a 20% off discount. Valid 6/16 – 6/27/18

Free shipping in the USA.

All international orders please email me with your country and postal code – I’ll send you a quote :) 

Click the items above & come shop! 

Photo from my favorite park and pond

Exercising Spiritual Muscles and Enjoying Mindful Days

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I used to reeeeally hate exercise. I was born with a type of dwarfism that led to osteoarthritis by the time I was 8, so physical activity was pretty painful. It also triggered every insecurity about my lovability and my future. I regularly buried those fears in the backyard of my brain, where an entire Belief System (BS) began taking root. 

(A gentle reminder before I continue ~ the early bird price for my new group coaching class ends tomorrow ~  “Building Soul Blissipline: Releasing the Belief Systems (BS) and Practicing Awe, Self-Care and Mindfulness.”)

Now back to my blog…

In 1993, when I was 30, I had both knees and hips replaced. It was a grueling recovery and rehab. When physical therapy was over, I knew I needed more work. I had to find . . . a gym!? So SCARY. Way out of my comfort zone. I thought I’d be the laughing stock of any locker room. They’ll KNOW I don’t belong! 

In the past, when friends had complained about workout pain, I didn’t understand how they were able to push through it, when I could not. 

It must be my fault. I’m just lazy. Too soft. Spoiled. Undisciplined. Can’t take the pressure. Loser.

But. Now that I had these new joints, they were giving me hope. So I gathered every speck of sweaty courage, and registered at the most unassuming gym I could find. Gulp.

After a week at the gym, I got the shock of my life. 

This new “pain” I was experiencing, after exercise, was totally… acceptable!? No sharp jabs, long nights and clenched teeth. 

Holy hamstring!

I never realized that the pain I’d known most of my life was nerve pain, not muscle pain. I wasn’t a loafer after all! I was actually LOVING exercise?! WHOA!

After about a year at the gym, however, no matter how hard I’d pushed and stretched, I could not get my knees and hips to flex farther than 90 degrees. That’s when the buried BS began to bite me right in the gluteus maximus.

Since I was a girl, I’d been dreaming of deep knee bends and dance moves. Fantasizing about holding my knees to my chest. Drooling over sitting Indian style, kneeling, or being able to pick up keys, coins or pens off the floor. 

I felt devastated. Imprisoned. Punished. 

Enter stage left. My husband! Life got very rosy! And busy. Kids came. Work kicked in.

I didn’t go back to the gym.  

Since 1994, there have been many, many attempts to resume a daily routine. The stationary bike. Then the treadmill. Then yoga. The stair climber. Chiropractic. Massage. Then the treadmill again. Exercise videos. Acupuncture. Then chair yoga (!) The coveted flexibility stayed way out of my reach. It confirmed the old BS that I was still, indeed, a flawed sack of fertilizer. 

Then five years ago, I was facilitating a mastermind. Each week, we would hold each other accountable to a small step toward a bigger goal. Someone shared that he needed to get back on his bike to ease his back pain. Hmm. His sensible self-care sprouted some of my own. 

I’d been doing plenty of spiritual working-out, but still avoiding the physical. But this time I wasn’t going to push myself. No demands or disgust. No harsh instruction or judgment. Fresh ground to walk on. I planned to be understanding and kind when the steaming hot BS hit the pavement. I just wouldn’t step in it. I’d honor and accept what I’d done in the past. I’d focus on health and enjoyment, today.

Just because I’d been hurt and unsuccessful before, didn’t mean I always would be! Maybe I would never be able to put my socks on the way others can. But I could still be happy. Maybe I would never move like a dancer. But I could still dance like me! 

My beat-up body deserved this love offering. An honoring of what my vehicle and I had been through. A gift of self-care to a super-soul container. 

At the next mastermind meeting, I was thrilled to report back to my group that I’d walked, three times! And much to my surprise, four other members had been happily exercising that week, too! We felt the powerful energy of accountability pull us forward and help us meet our separate needs, together. The blissipline was contagious! 

I continued walking, gently. Mindfully. With tenderness for the girl who thought she was pile of poo. 

Five years later, I’m still walking, daily. I’m floored! Given my history, it’s really quite epic. Exercise has actually become one of my auto-magic blissiplines. And when I miss a day or two, I don’t sh** all over myself. I step back on track without shame. 

Over the years I’ve found a bunch of simple yet soul satisfying practices – EFT tapping, affirmative prayers, calling in angel assistance, green smoothies, mealtime grace, mindful chores and quick visualization. Each one has unearthed its own resistance! Each needed to be ‘worked out.’ It takes practice, patience and pruning of the BS.  

If you’re ready to weave some every day mindfulness into your Spring and beyond, please join my group class! We’re going to grow our own unique spiritual blissiplines, for the the joy of it, the energy, the connection, the fabulous feeling when we follow through.

Feel free to email me here with any questions or comments!

With much love, light
and soul satisfation,

 

 

 

The Queen of Autumn: Leaf Piles and Present Moment Magic

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How beautifully leaves grow old(Originally posted at my Huffington Post Blog in 2011!)

As my neighbors grumble about the leaves covering their lawn, my boys wait wide-eyed, with mighty rakes in their hands. The time is here; our delicate Japanese maple has finally shed enough of her red robe for a ginormous leaf pile.

Our maple stands on duty, everyday, a quiet nanny to a neighborhood of fast friends. She stoops down low for even the smallest of sneakers to scale and reaches high enough for the bigger kids to walk on air.

As the seasons move past, dependable and reassuring, she’s alive in our photos: summer kids dangling like earrings from her limbs, green leaf stew at her feet. There are winter snowmen around her waist and a count down to Christmas in her ears.

But her infamous time of year is Now, when ruby-red leaves dance and drop from her skies. The dogwood nearby offers a generous contribution and the old oak by the street throws in her golden leaves. But no one is fooled. We all know who is really Queen of Autumn.

autumn maple n snow

Our autumn maple in an early snowfall, 2011

“We can rake now, right Mom?” my ten-year-old asks as he watches a squirrel tight rope through our bare maple. “Yup we definitely have enough leaves,” I answer, as he breaks for the garage. “C’mon Ky, let’s get the rakes!” My six-year-old scurries behind him, a bagel in hand, no shoes on his feet.

I grab my camera and step out front. Long rake handles appear first, bobbing above our front bushes, taller than both boys combined. As the work begins, our maple occasionally catches their hair in her branches or snags the wooden handles. Nothing inconveniences the boys, though, as they move with purpose and enthusiasm. Spencer tugs at the glorious crimson carpet, sweat beading on his forehead, as our maple exhales oxygen and inhales CO2 in a beautiful exchange.

From across the street, our twin nine-year-old neighbors, Manuela and Thomas, spot the fun and rush to join the leaf brigade. Thomas refuels the effort where Ky has petered out. “We can make a pile as high as the house!” he yells with glee. Spencer’s tired rake is reluctantly passed off to Manuela, who moves with invigorating new purpose. A monstrous pile is built.

autumn 1

Can you find all three faces…

My maple and I smile with motherly pride. Appreciating the present moment, I remember where peace and joy resides. “I jump first!” Spence yells. “Second!” Ky pipes in. “Third!” “Fourth!” Thomas and Manuela add. Our eight-year-old neighbor Danny suddenly runs into the yard yelling, “Fifth!”

I balance my smiling camera as Bill comes to enjoy the spectacle. Like our maple, the kids stand ready for the joy ahead, for snuggling in next year’s shade, for the long upward climb into adulthood.

We watch as Spence backs way up to begin his debut run. He takes off with a bang and then, with an enormous leap and a giggly shout, he dives head first into the autumn womb.

“Laughing is jogging on the inside

With laughter spilling around like sunshine, I feel reconnected with it all. The smell, the crunch, the gratitude for a world breathing in and out. I have the boys to thank. They won’t let their childhood pass us by too quickly. At least not today.

Soon our maple will be hailing the holidays, branches lined with elegant white snow. Although I may get distracted by the busyness, scurrying to get it all done,  I can count on our maple to etch our lives in peace.

In the years ahead, as our sons find new joy and work in this world, Bill and I want to be there with them, celebrating each new season of their lives. All the while we’ll remember the days of autumn leaf piles when friends and family (and an elegant Japanese maple) were there to steady our souls.

Be like a tree, let the dead leaves drop. .....~Rumi

“Everything I let go of has claw marks on it.Anne Lamott

Let it go,

let it be,

for love,

XO

Julie

How to Usher in Your Dreams: The Universe is Listening

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FB fire rainbow a

Driving down the Garden State Parkway, I’m on my way to my first solo vacay in New Jersey (no snickering.) I’ve got five days at my friend’s glorious house while she’s in Italy. Since my oldest son’s birth twelve years ago, I’ve not been all alone for more than a day. I’m way over due.

That’s when I spot it. A rainbow. Wait . . . blue sky, no rain. WHAT?! Obviously the other drivers haven’t noticed the humdinger because they are NOT swerving and squealing like a nut-ball. I scramble for my camera like an electrified orangutan.

I pull over and whip out my camera so fast I nearly throw it across the dash. As I start shooting, the colors are faint but grow brighter before my wide-eyes. They trail along the clouds in glory. Mama Mia.

My car and I are drunk in delight, windswept & jostled by the other high-speeders zooming past me and the miracle. I’m still giggling and chatting out loud thanking the angels for the prism show. My breath is caught inside the glee. I’m not alone. Roy G. Biv has got every color on deck. For me.

After twenty minutes, I continue on my drive, dazzled. I spend five delirious days writing. Painting. Breathing in the green of the yard. The stillness of flowers. The pool’s turquoise purr. Outside the rush of my daily life, I really like my own company. Maybe, after all these years, I actually love me. Whoa. The rainbow knew.

When I return home from my retreat, I feel alive. Free. I tell my family about the “fire rainbow” (I’d googled it.) My son says he wishes he saw it, too. The Universe is listening.

At his birthday party the following week, guess who arrives. Yup. I’d never seen a fire rainbow until a week earlier. Hovering above us, is another. NO. WAY. I start yelling to my son and pointing up like a crazed Chicken Little. Rainbows are falling around us.

a fire6 copy

A month later, we’re at the Jersey shore. Yet another appears. Google informs me this one is a “sun dog.” Whatever. It’s still color streaking across my freakin blue skies. My dad tells me that when I was too young to write, I signed a guest book at a relative’s house . . . with a rainbow. They’ve been on my radar awhile.

FB fire rainbow 9:19:12

As a kid, I’d thought that rainbows would be even more awesome if there was a blue sky behind them instead of grey clouds. I’m not making this up. Then I saw it on Facebook – a photo of a colorful ribbon shimmering across a wicked azure sky.

I figured I would have to be in Hawaii or Bali to see such grandeur.

Mais no.

They now follow me in Joisey. Several months ago, I step outside Barnes and Noble (a gospel belt) and glaring right at me is a huge glowing sun dog. I’m agog again. My eyes dart around the parking lot for someone to celebrate the sky with me. Three folks slip into their cars, engines roar away. I call out to one last woman, but she can’t hear the happiness. Her head is bowed as she leaves, untouched by the hot diggity-dog before us.

Are you expecting your job to be stressful? No free time? Your partner to disappoint you? Your health to decline? Murphy’s Law to win? Well when you look at it THAT way, your wishes are the universe’s command.

There’s an area of our brain called the reticular activating system (RAS) whose job is to filter through the endless data that bombards us daily. The RAS only allows into our conscious mind what we are focused on, interested in, or what we believe. It edits out anything that doesn’t confirm our belief system (BS,) which we may have been carrying around since childhood. Our mind is a neutral search engine, looking to prove us right about our expectations.

Ever bought a car you’d rarely seen, in a color you were sure was unique. Then you get out on the road and that exact car is everywhere. Turns out, that car had always been around you, but your RAS never picked up on it until it was a priority.

This isn’t woo-woo. This is science.

Einstein said, “You can never solve a problem on the level on which it was created.” If we stay focused on what’s wrong, the RAS is blind to anything right. What do you expect from the world and what do you offer? Give your dreams more airtime today. Your thoughts and feelings are so powerful that your life is created by their rally cry. Redemption is within your reach.

Just last month, I was rather stuck in the ‘not enoughness.’ Not enough wishes coming true. Not enough Money. Talent. Time. Courage. My life is FULL of great things but I was busy focusing on what I feared was missing. So I rewrote my affirmations. I recommitted to reading them every day. Focus. Breathe. Believe. Receive. 

Yesterday, driving to the shore, my family and I see a massive sun halo (a rainbow circle clear around the sun.) There’s a small pastel fire rainbow at it’s feet. Sweet Jesus. What promise lies about us. What mystery. I want to reaffirm my life with greater faith than ever. Do I face life’s challenges like they are obstacles or opportunities? Sometimes I forget it’s my choice. The skies remember. I got it all on camera.

There are fire rainbows afoot. Keep looking up! 

 

Mama Maples – Finding Peace Amidst the Fast Pace

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Three gentle giants wait for me in the backyard. Eighty feet tall or so, my magical maples watch over our home, guard our dreams. They stand in a curved row, committed back-up singers, ready to harmonize with those who’ll listen.

Daily, I feel them calling me away from the computer, out of the rush, past my worries. Humming, encouraging, being. They know when I’ve forgotten to breathe again. Meditation has fallen away this week, as I push for more book promotion, more people to contact, more life to live. I’ve been captured by the pulse of perfectionism.

I search for what’s missing in my post-its, my emails, on my to-do list. I’ve forgotten that joy and gratitude are productive companions. The kids call, the laundry moans, and the phone screams my name. I plug my ears. I can’t hear myself over all the questions. So I answer the maples.

I step out the backdoor and we sigh in unison. They are the quietest of teachers and it is their peace I seek. “There you are,” they whisper sweetly. “Come sit down with the dandelions.” The lawn chair scoops me up and I rest in it’s arms. I stare at the maples, waiting.

In the front yard, someone is crying. Drat. I get up, unlatch the gate and walk away from my sanctuary, knowing I may never return today. Down our drive, I spot the two five-year-old friends facing each other. I check my son Kyler’s face, but the hurt isn’t his. I switch to our neighbor, Jeremiah. His mouth is wide and wailing. Both boys are sitting on the sidewalk, scooters flung to the side.

Just as I’m about to call to them, I see Kyler raise his finger and gently, lovingly, touch Jeremiah’s nose. I catch my breath. A tiny giggle spurts out of Jeremiah, defying his tears. Ky blesses his friend’s nose again, light as tinker bell. They both giggle more. I back away quickly, not wanting to disturb the vision, the sweet sharing, the love being passed on. I walk back to my place in the sun with a heart open wider.

As I sit back among the maples, I remember an email I must return. My busy train chugs out of the station when I hear a firm and penetrating, shhhhhhhhhhhhhh. My body freezes. My mind dumps it’s contents. Did anyone hear that? But no one is there. The maples are definitely addressing me. Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Whoa, there it is again. They are swaying inside their own message. They are perfect in their tone and their lullaby. Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh they coo, as their leaves wave and laugh. The sky is rocked clean in their easy, soft spell. My smile sails across the yard.

I hear the clank of the gate unlatching and I turn to tell the intruder that I need time alone. But before I can, Ky asks brightly, “Mommy, wanna a piece a gum?” My smile surprises me. “Sure,” I answer. “Jeremiah had to go home,” he reports, as he hands me a soft piece of Bubble Yum. We unwrap the pink puff and eat our gum together, in silence. Kyler rests so naturally, cross legged in his chair. His breathing is free, his spirit, whole. The maples say shhhhhhhhhhh one more time and I remember what I’ve forgotten. I close my eyes. The magic sits before me, within me, like a wide-eyed child. My son, and the mama maples, have settled the breezes inside me, again.