I want to take a moment, before my post, to bid a fond farewell to the beloved Wayne Dyer who passed into the Great Beyond Sunday, Aug 30th, 2015, on the heels of a supermoon. I felt so shocked & saddened by the news… but I also feel a thrill for Wayne on his continued journey into the light. It makes me smile thinking of his reunion with his mom and with the father he never knew. Six years ago, Wayne gave me my first big break by endorsing my memoir and later inviting me on stage with him, in front of 1000 people! It was the first time Iâd ever spoken to an audience⌠(here’s the short video his daughter Skye took of me~ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B0BjCw_uZdM.) I was a bundle of nerves, but I was also utterly inspired by Wayneâs belief in me. And I did it! He showed me I could. Iâll never forget him and the divine gifts he left behind. I love you, Wayne. God speed!
And now for my regularly scheduled program : )
âFor peace of mind, resign as general manager of the universe.âÂ
Oh if only I would.
Itâs been an emotional month for my family. As a result, I’ve been wrestling with a personal delusion Iâve long clung to ~ the belief that somehow, through my own great love, effort and awareness, I can control my life, my husbandâs life and my boys life so weâre all happy, healthy and safe. Forever.
Herein lies a big problemo.
What can I do (or stop doing) when darkness knocks on their door and I canât make it go the hell away?
Just two months ago I was lounging in my wonderful friend Kimberlyâs pool. Despite the grief surrounding my Dadâs passing, I felt some comfort believing that life wouldnât dare hurt me again for a very long while. (I was wrong.) Nonetheless, I was soaking in the elation of a five day soul-o retreat while Kim was on vacation. The quiet time is an unimaginable, indescribable, spine-tingling joy. Iâm in awe of this remedy back to myself and back to what matters.
The miracle . . . is being alive to it all. Even to the insects. I kid you not.
On my second day away, I decide to cool off in the pool. Immediately I see a beetle madly paddling in the blue. The desperate swimmer kinda draws me in. I grab a leaf from the side of the pool and let the beetle climb aboard. I deliver it to the warm cement and then turn around just in time to spot another bug. Sigh.
I rescue the other bug and transport it back to terra firma. And because in my glorious days of nothingness, I am free to do anything at all, I watch this bug. Closely. And you know what? Itâs like opening the weirdest gift. I pinky swear.
I watch the bug lift her hair-thin arms and carefully clean her antennae, face and head. Then she balances on her arms and uses her wispy little legs to wipe every other part of her crunchy little form. From tip to stern, top to bottom, she shakes off her brush with death. She test pumps her caboose and then runs toward the grass. How do those teensy appendages work so perfectly?
The next bug I bump into is a goner. I bring it to the side of the pool, anyway, so I donât end up wearing it. Itâs a sweet black beetle with two red polka dots on her back. I return to the blue for another bug Iâd seen. This one has flatlined, too. But when I go to scrape it off my oak-helicopter, an antenna suddenly pops up from its previously slicked back position. Then an arm twitches and slowly swipes down along the antenna. The other antenna spoings forward.
Slowly, this miniature chlorinated creature begins to rejuvenate right before my eyes. Call me crazy, but itâs mesmerizing.
I start rooting for the bug.
Like the other critter, with great precision and rhythm, it brushes itâs little black hairs, over and over. Itâs movements look almost . . . human. In a creepy-crawlie kinda way, of course. Still, it stops me cold.
Then I notice that the reverse lady-bug with the red dots, who appeared dead as a doornail, is crawling across the cement. Whoa. I watch it check itâs wings for flight and then it buzzzzzes away.
Looking out across the pool, Iâm now actually searching for victims to airlift. And Iâm gigglesnorting. It feels a little ridiculous . . . but itâs fun being a bug bus.
Google tells me there are 10 quintillion (10,000,000,000,000,000,000) insects on earth. Seriously, thatâs nineteen zeros. Why do we see insects as âpestsâ when there would be no life here without them?
Stepping foot on planet earth means youâre gonna get seriously bugged. From every direction.
Recently, I heard myself whispering, âThe world has gone half-crazy. How in heavenâs name do I keep my boys safe? Protect them from the struggles and the mountains of pain that humans face?â
The only response, the truly sane, powerful and peaceful response, is letting go. Letting it all go.
Oh if only I could.
When life shocks and appalls me, my mind declares war. I armor up. Fears swarm around me in an exhausting and vigilant attack. To protect and defend. âI can fix this, I can solve this. Itâs up to me, itâs up to ME!â
The truth is I am only in control of my response to life events, but I canât duct tape the tides. I sometimes get these two subtleties confused.
I donât always trust Grace to guide me. I rely on ME because itâs too scary to admit I donât have control and that Iâm just afraid of what lies ahead for me and the people I love. Eek.
So I let myself cry. And I pray. And I let go. And then I slowly recognize how far Iâve strayed from the power of the present moment. Those bugs slicking back their bristles. Getting on with life. Why canât I?
In witnessing the mystery of those tiny beasts, I came alive, too. I saw beauty in something ugly. I felt compassion and awe. As I watched with full attention, I released the reigns that choke. I surrendered the idiocy of control. I remembered the glory and the simplicity of being a little bug bus.
At one point, Iâd looked up from that pool and had seen this small pastel fire rainbow (in the photo.) Can my worries, even months later, compete with it?
By allowing the vulnerability of being human, of brokenness, I gain the strength that lies behind it all. This gigantic life is not all up to me. The truth is sweet relief – fear doesnât protect or pollinate. I gotta give up the urgency. The anguish. Give up the struggle. Give it all up.
Why?
So I can enjoy this walk on earth. So I can be present to it all. When I live with an open heart, I revive and reconnect to something bigger. Brighter. Wiser. Although I may try to grab back the throne & scepter tomorrow, I let âem go for now. Iâm handing in my resignation (again) as controller of the cosmos.
It isnât the events that drown us, itâs our fear that we cannot endure them, which leaves us out of breath.
Challenges and heartaches werenât meant to be pests. They help us live with a brave heart and a greater capacity for love and acceptance. If the âlowlyâ insects can see with an exceptionally wide-angled view, we can do it, too.
The choice is always there – to let whatâs bugging us close our heart down OR to let adversity open our heart wider. Vulnerability brings the hard truth – this life is temporary and uncertain – but vulnerability can also bring the kind of joy that children feel. Delight still waits for us each day, even in the midst of despair. Especially then.
No matter how cold-hearted people can be, no matter how blindsided weâve been, when we stand open in the present moment, the world is awash with wonders. A quintillion of them.
Câest la bee.
with love,Â
and a deep bow to the mysteries,
⤠Julie
P.S. An update on Lil Goddess & our rescue mission (from my last post.) The whole Canadian goose family is doing well! Here are some photos and updates~