Still Under Construction

   

  I recently had a "grr" moment from someone in my past.  As I was coming home, I did some EFT (Emotional Freedom Tapping) on the situation, and decided I no longer needed to have this person's energy in my life and so I was done with them.  As I get older, I realize I always have an option to be in situations that suit me or not.  I also know from experience that every "grr" moment I have is actually one with myself, and until I clear whatever is causing that "grr" moment, I will continue to have them.  As I think about this "grr" moment, because the mind always wants to keep going over and over the moment until it deems itself righteous, I have to laugh because also recently on one of the Facebook groups I follow, the question was posed, "What is the greatest gift you can give someone?"  Me, in my infinite wisdom, (ha ha), replied, "Allow the person to be who they are."  Funny how the Universe tests your theories and wisdom.  I understand this phrase, I try my best to believe it and follow it, but it does not mean that I have to continue to allow this person to be in my life.  Of course, I also know that until I clear whatever button they are pushing, I will continue to have these "grr" moments with them or others.  I know which button it is, that I think everyone should like me.  This was brought to my attention while watching a rerun of an old show, "One Day At A Time."  So, I thank the Universe for bringing me this "grr" moment, for bringing to my attention that I still have Self doubt about myself, that loving myself means loving all parts of myself, (even the "grr" moments) and it is time to clear and heal it.  My Ego would love nothing more than to say to this person, "Hey, you hurt my feelings, why are you so mean to me and others?  What is YOUR problem?"  My Soul calls me gently and says, "There is no problem.  The situation is an illusion that you have made up, there is only Love."  As I write this, a song pops into my head, "A Thousand Years" by Christina Perri, and I can hear my Soul singing to my Ego, "I have loved you for a thousand years, and I will love you for a thousand more.....one step closer."  On my journey I am continually reminded of two things, "You cannot orchestrate harmony with another, you can only orchestrate harmony with yourself." and "You never get it done."  So, here is to my journey, I am grateful to be here, for all those who have been on my journey, continue to be with me, and for all the new, wonderful experiences yet to come that bring me "One step closer."

2 Yellowjackets

     Two days ago,  I was stung by 2 yellowjackets.  The day had not started out that rosy.  I woke up in a bad mood. I don’t know why, maybe I had a bad dream and just didn’t remember the dream.  Anyway, all morning I was grouchy.  Nothing in particular to be grouchy about.  I had made arrangements to go to my Mom and Dad’s at around 3pm.  I reluctantly took a shower around 2, I almost called to cancel, but they needed my help to fix something on my dad’s computer, so I pressed on.  I took the garbage out to the apartment trash cans and on my way to my car, I hesitated.  I had told my dad I would write his life story and the thought came to me that I should go back to the apartment and get my laptop, but I talked myself out of it, saying to myself that I was not in the mood to type, I didn’t know how long it was going to take for me to fix his computer problem, so I turned towards my car.  As I put my hand on the driver’s door, I felt a sting on my right ear and then immediately on my right hand.  I dropped my keys and purse and ran away about 10 feet.  I knew I had been stung, and was very pissed.  I looked around to see if I could see where they came from, did not, so picked up my purse and keys and walked back to my apartment crying.  Oh, I did apologize to the lady that was talking on her phone outside her apartment door, as quite a few expletives had come from my mouth.  I immediately looked for Benadryl, but could not find it, and then remembered it was still in my overnight bag from our recent vacation.  Although most times I have not had allergic reactions to stings, there have been two times I have, so I always take a Benadryl just in case.  I also pulled out my Lavender and Thieves essential oil and put them on the two stings.  I called my mother and told her I had been stung and may not make it, depending on how the Benadryl reacted.  I then got my can of wasp spray, found the nest and proceeded to kill them all.  I advised the apartment manager, and she said she would have maintenance check out the rest of the carport.  She also made the comment that the yellowjackets had been bad this year.  My thought was, well then you need to be a little more diligent about checking the carports.  After about 30 minutes, the Benadryl was working, and although the stings hurt, the swelling was staying local so I headed over to fix the computer.  It took me about an hour and half.  I am far from being a computer expert, and trying to find out from my dad what he wanted and then trying to explain the difference between a server and application was a little frustrating, but we got through it.

     I don’t blame the yellowjackets.  They were just doing what yellowjackets do.  Making a home and defending it.  I cannot help but think if I had been in a better mood, or had listened to my intuition and gone back to the apartment, I would have seen the nest before they saw me as I would have been coming from a different angle.  I also thought to myself as I drove home from my parents, that maybe, just maybe, there was much more going on here.  I didn’t listen the first time when my intuition said to go back to the apartment, so another plan had to happen.  Maybe the Universe or whomever takes care of such stuff kept me from being in an accident.  I know better, I should always listen to my intuition, because when I don’t, something happens that I don’t much care for.  I cannot go so far as to be grateful for the stings, but I can be grateful that something much bigger than me is looking out for me and has my best interest at heart.  

The Black Crow

     Yesterday while I was swimming, a black crow landed upon the pool gate.  I stopped to admire him, different shades of dark purple and black.  I continued watching him and started sending love his way.  He turned and looked at me for a moment and then went back to whatever crows do while sitting on a gate, probably looking for food.  I continued to watch him until he swooped to the ground to find some tasty morsel.  I wondered if he (or she) had felt the love I had sent their way.  As I was walking back to my apartment, I started laughing at how much joy that crow had given me, but had I been a farmer and he was in my cornfield, how different I would have felt.
     This morning while swimming, a black crow flew to the concrete next to the pool.  I again stopped swimming, watched and sent love, wondering if it was the same crow, and had it felt me and come for more love?  The crow took a couple of sips from water that had gotten into the concrete cracks and I continued to watch it.  As soon as my attention was taken from somewhere else, the crow flew off.  It got me to wondering, why do we visit the same places over and over?  Is it the familiarity, a feeling that we get when we visit, thinking of some long ago memory of how we felt when we visited before?  There is so much to this big wide world, but I find myself always visiting the same 5 blocks.  The same grocery stores, same coffee shops etc.  Yes, it is convenient for me, and I do dislike driving around town in traffic, but I guess not so much so that I live out in the boonies.  I used to.  I remember when the kids were smaller, we lived outside of Fredericksburg about 20 minutes, and on rainy days, I would take them to the local Wal-Mart.  It was before they made it a Super one.  We would get a pretzel and drink and go up and down the aisles, and I would let them play with the toys a little while, usually letting them each pick out a small one to take home. The Wal-Mart had sky lights, so even though it was rainy outside, it was still brighter than our trailer house, and it gave us something to do,
     Something to do.  What does that mean?  We feel so compelled in our existence to "do" something, to be remembered, to try and ensure that our moment in this space and time is noted by somebody, something.  I do not know why I had the feeling to send the crow love.  And maybe it was sending me love and I was so enjoying it, I got the opinion that I was the one doing it.  And it was a moment between us, the crow and me.  Where did the love come from?  Me?  The crow?  Does it matter?  I have to believe that the Love was permeating around us, that Love is the Creator, the creation, all in one, and I for a brief moment in time and space, captured the frequency of Love and allowed it to move inside me and then let it go on its merry way.  If only I could live each moment bathed in this Love, and yet I am, I am just not aware of it, so my prayer, my invocation, my song would be to always be aware of the Love that permeates within me and all around me.

When a skunk is not a skunk

     I learned something new yesterday.  My husband, daughter, son-in-law, and I were outside in the beautiful town of Trinidad, Colorado, enjoying the mountain air, well at least trying to, because an older gentleman had his stodgy cigar going, but still, we could smell wafts of the clean pine air, when a couple about my age sat kitty corner behind us.  All of sudden the smell of skunk ensued the air.  We all started laughing, although I really thought it was a skunk.  My husband made the comment to the people, "Did you a open a Bud?"  Well, at least that is what I thought he said, because I can't stand Budweiser and would equal that to a smell of a skunk, they laughed and everyone at my table laughed, and my daughter made the comment about the smell, "That would probably be a regular smell around here."  I kind of pondered on that, because we had a farm and always smelled skunk, so I thought why would it be any different here?  About 10 minutes we heard the lady start yelling at her partner, "Hey, are you ok?  Wake up, wake up!"  We looked around and he was kind of catatonic, mouth and eyes wide open but out of it.  She then splashed her beer in his face and started throwing ice cubes at him, we asked her if we could help, and she said yes, please call 911.  My daughter ran into the hotel lobby to have someone call, and my son-in-law called 911 from his cell phone.  While my son-in-law was on the phone trying to explain where we were and what was happening, the gentleman awoke startled, shook his head and looked around.  He had no idea he had been out.  The woman with him said they didn't need 911 anymore so my son-in-law then advised the 911 operator that everything seemed to be ok.  My daughter in the mean time had talked with the front desk and they had called 911.  Just as the fire truck was pulling up, the couple said they were going back to their room and then the hotel manager came out looking for them, we told them which direction they went.  It wasn't until later that night when recounting the incident at a local pub to some of our other relatives that were in town for our family reunion that I heard the word marijuana.  Me, innocently asking, "So that wasn't a skunk?"  They all started laughing.  The last time I had smelled marijuana was about 13 and my family's reunion in Michigan and my cousins were smoking it in their hotel room.  It had a sickly sweet smell.  They kept asking me if I wanted to try it, but I said no, first, if my dad ever found out, he would kill me, and secondary, I just didn't need it.  After several attempts of trying to convince me it was ok, I retorted, "I don't need that to be happy."  In which they all laughed. The next morning my face and lips were all swollen and I had hives.  My grandmother, who was not aware of what had transpired the night before thought it was something I had eaten at dinner.  So, having that reaction, I never put myself in situations where I was around it.  Kind of hard to do in Colorado now.  I asked the my kids why would anyone smoke anything that smelled like skunk and one of them replied it had something to do with it being more potent.  I looked it up on Google, (thank goodness for Google) and found a Chicago Tribune article written back in 2016.  I liked the journalist because she had the same thought I did, she couldn't understand why Chicago was all of sudden getting invaded by skunks.  Anyway, according to her article, about 20 years ago there was a strain of marijuana made that was very potent but smelled like skunk.  So, that smell now is associated with high potency, although it may not be the case anymore, but I would say the Colorado strain the gentleman had yesterday was quite potent.  I could end this with some commentary on the fact that even though I have never tried marijuana and am hoping I never will have to use it, as I know it does help with some medical conditions, I would much rather smell the beautiful mountain air of Colorado.

Ironing

  

   I ironed for the first time today since moving to the new apartment.  I had bought a fancy over the door hanger for my ironing board and iron in the laundry room so it was easier to get to, but I really haven't had the need to use them.  I put clothes in the dryer yesterday and did not take them out until today, and 2 of my husband's shirts were very wrinkled.  He wears Magellan shirts, so most of the time if they are taken out of the dryer right away, they are wrinkle free.  Sometimes, even when I leave them in the dryer, I hang them up and usually the wrinkles come out, or I pretend that they do.
My husband wears them to work on airplanes, and the airplanes could really care less if his shirt is wrinkled or not.  My husband has never complained, and I figured if it really bothered him, he could iron them himself.  I am not the greatest housewife.  At least when I had a job, I sort of had an excuse, but I don't now, except that I just don't like ironing.  I would say for most people this is true, my mother being one of the exceptions.  She is one of those that likes to iron, clean house etc.  I did not inherit that particular gene from her.  Could have been because while I was having to do chores growing up, I would rather have been playing.  Same rings true today.
     My father decided one day that I was going to iron his shirts.  He was a retired Navy officer, and a businessman, so his white shirts had to be perfectly starched and ironed.  I think that is what dry cleaners are for.  I did iron his shirts one time, and he yelled at me because it wasn't perfect so I told him I was not going to do it again.  I also remember back in 7th grade, I was getting ready for the Academic Achievement Awards ceremony at school and I wanted to wear my white pantsuit.  (It was the 80's).  I turned the iron on too hot for the fabric and it burned a huge hole in the pants.  I was devastated.  I am not sure why, it was not to look good for my parents, as they dropped me off at the ceremony and went out to dinner, and there was certainly no one I was dressing for at school, at least I do not remember who, I was pretty much a flower on the wall.
     As I was ironing today, I asked myself, why do we do it?  Iron our clothes?  I will be the first to admit that I judge someone that shows up to work or at a social event in wrinkled clothes, immediately going to the "lazy person" judgement.  But what do I know?  Maybe they overslept, maybe their wife did their ironing for them, but one of the kids was sick and she didn't have time, maybe their electricity went out, and why is it any of my business anyway?  Why are we trying to iron out the wrinkles, what is wrong with wrinkles?  I know there are plenty of people who pay good money so their personal wrinkles on their face or their skin do not show.  I have wrinkles.  I started getting them big time when I had kids, and I had pretty good kids.  I wish I had more laugh lines than wrinkles.  I love looking at people's faces that have huge laugh lines, it makes me think, they got the memo, "No one is getting out alive, so might as well have fun while I am are here."  I have a very loud laugh, and it annoys some people, well probably a lot of people, but I have also been told by people they love my laugh, because it is genuine, and usually means I am in a good mood, which is so much better than the alternative.
     When I started getting gray hair, my daughter used to pluck them out, and I was like, "Don't do that, I have earned every one of those!"  She would reply, "They are so wild."  That is ok to me.  My hair was blonde when I was younger, and then dishwater blonde, but as I age, it is actually getting darker, except of course for those stray gray hairs coming in.  I am actually looking forward to gray hair, I think I will be able to get away with more.  People will comment, "Oh don't mind her, she's just a crazy old lady."  And that is alright by me.  I've never been an "appearance" girl.  I don't wear makeup, except on the few occasions needed, weddings, funerals, job interviews.  I one time went to a Merle Norman boutique and  got all made up and when I got to work, my husband, who was then just a friend said, "Is it Halloween, because you look like a clown."  It hurt my feelings big time, but I have saved mucho money not having to buy makeup or keeping up appearances, because he didn't want that kind of girl.  Not that I am not high maintenance, any girl that loves horses is truly high maintenance, but in a different way.
     So we iron our clothes to rid of the wrinkles.  And yes, when I am dressed nicely, I do carry myself differently than I do when in yoga pants, which thankfully is my present work uniform as a housewife.  But who is the real me?  The one all dressed to impress, or the one in yoga pants enjoying the day, allowing life to unfold instead of trying to unfold it?

A Balancing Act

     I walked away from wine today.  It no longer held its mystique for me.  I have known a lot of good wines and they have enhanced my life and I have known some not so good ones, and they also enhanced my life in their own way.  I see this as a parallel to my life- people that have come and gone, experiences I will never have again, experiences I never dreamed I would have and so many more that I will have.  I am not sure when and why it happened that I forgot about the magic of what life is really about.  There was such a long period of my life when things “just happened” that I wanted to happen and then I lost touch.  I do not know in my searching for ways to make what I wanted to happen faster, easier, it turned into such work.  Reading and doing and hoping and disappointment raveled all together in this space continuum time thread.  I have a feeling I want to just Be, but I do not know what that really means.  Letting go of dreams? Of goals?  Of allowing life to unfold at its own pace?  It already does that without help from me, so I do not know if I am here to experience just that or if I am here to add to the experience- and is just allowing the moment- is that enough to add to it or am I here to do more?  To have an experience that no one else has- and is allowing or having the same thing?

     My mother once told me to careful what I read.  I told her the same thing.  To me her books were narrow-minded, all saying the same thing, but as I recall the books I have read in the last 20 years, mine have been too.  I am at an impasse, on one hand I am reading books that delve with the Ego and how to get what it wants and on the other hand, books on how to connect with the Soul and make my Soul the Master of my journeys.

     It seems to me our world has been Ego based for so long- or else we would not want to be continually killing each other, whereas a Soul based world would understand the oneness of all- that there is enough, that all is well, but again, a Soul based world would also understand that there is no beginning and no end, so being killed or experiencing death is a natural consequence of life.  In the Ego world, we hold on, we attach ourselves to things, to people, to places, to experiences, in the Soul world, we allow whatever comes to us.

    I do not think it is ever a struggle between good and evil, but trying to balance the relationship with Ego and Soul.  So many teachings I have read say that our Soul is our inner connection with our Creator, but I cannot also help but wonder if our Ego is just as connected, but in a different way.  When we pray, meditate, hear beautiful music, see a baby smile, a majestic mountain or sit on the beach, listening to the waves crash, our Soul fills with happiness and we have a moment of peace, but when we see or feel something that horrifies us, makes us sad, brings despair, is this actually a moment that turns us to our Soul?  To allow the Soul to turn this ugly moment into a cleansing, purifying moment?  And so, if this moment, even if it was bad, brought us back to our Soul, our Being, was it really bad?  And do we ever get to the point of not having to have those "ugh" experiences just to bring us back to our Souls?  Or is this life just a balancing act of beautiful and "ugh" moments, until we accept the "ugh" moments as beautiful too?

     Have you ever been in a situation where you know you could help, but was not able to or you were not asked and you were upset because you know the situation could have ended better if you could have helped?  I have an idea that this is how our Souls feel.  If we could just learn to hand over our problems, our devastating experiences, or even just the small ones that pinch a nerve, to our Souls, we would be healed and so would the experience and all those involved.  There are so many tools we have made up to help us do this, not understanding how simple it is to just allow and let go.

    But, then again, who am I to say what experiences of this life anyone else should have and honestly, no one is knocking down my door to ask me how to live a more peaceful life.  I write blogs with the insights I have been given in hopes that I might make a difference in one person’s life, but is that person actually me?  Giving, receiving; breathing in, breathing out; living, dying- it is all reciprocal, one big circle.  And suddenly I am in a moment of bliss, balance.  My Soul understands that I could not write this without the Ego and my Ego understands I could not write this without my Soul.  As with my life, my Soul understands there would not be this life without the Ego, and the Ego understands there would not be this life without my Soul.  A partnership of the grandest kind.

.

.

End note:  I do not know if I am physically giving up wine, but I am giving up the notion that I have to have it.  I have often bought wine just because someone was doing a tasting and if the wine was tolerable because I have been in that situation where my worth was wrapped up in how many bottles I could sell.  So maybe instead of empathizing with that person by buying a bottle, I heal that part of me that feels compelled to act in this way.  It is the feeling or compelling that needs healing, not the actual act of buying the wine.

.

End note#2- I never know what I will write.  An idea comes into my head and I form sentences in my mind, but once I get started, I usually end up somewhere else.  Lost in the moment, I allow what transpires.  I fancy that someday in the future, someone will find my writings in the Colorado mountains-ancient scriptures and they name them “The Colorado Scrolls”, but they won’t know the language and will interpret them the best they can.  Where does this thought come from?  Having to make a mark, having to be remembered?  Something else to hand over to the Soul.  I find myself chuckling as I write this because I see my Soul putting on its work boots, heaving a big sigh of “Finally”, and growing ever bigger with each time I allow and release.  A big white light radiating outwards, encompassing my very being and instead of going into the light, I Am the Light.  

For Love's Sake

     My daughter and I did this painting a couple of weeks ago at a Painting with a Twist.  We’ve done paintings before together, and I know I’ve done at least 10 or more paintings, it is always great fun.  There was only one time I didn’t have fun because I really loved the painting and wanted mine to be perfect like the teacher’s, the teacher even mentioned how uptight I was and it took me awhile to actually love that particular painting, but I have come to appreciate what it means to me.  As you can see, my daughter’s painting is beautiful, her heart perfect, her letter perfectly centered, and mine, well it is mine.  I have never been a perfectionist, oh, I’ve tried, but it’s not for me.  I am sure that is why I have had jobs where perfection is not the top quality, let’s say like brain surgery or rocket science. There are many others who are much more suited for those types of jobs, and enjoy them, whereas, me, not so much.  On this painting, I did ask the teacher if I could have colors to make my letter purple, because it originally was black, and after grumbling a little, he did give me red and blue and advised how to get the color I wanted.  I had a specific place in mind for this painting in our bedroom as our bedspread is a dusty purple with some cream and our walls are a cream color so I knew it would be fabulous in there. 

     Last weekend I met up with some friends and we saw an Andy Warhol type painting of an English Bulldog.  My friends have an English Bulldog and they were discussing where they might be able to buy a painting like it.  I mentioned they could paint their own at a Painting with Twist class, they often have classes where you can paint your pet.  You send them a picture of your pet and they outline it and then give you the colors and instruction to do it.  I did one of my yellow lab Annie, who was one of my favorite pets of all time.  While we were discussing this, the gentleman blurted out, “So Shannon, what happened to your heart?”, making a comment about the recent painting I did.  We are Facebook friends, so they both saw it.  I laughed and said, “I love my heart, it reminds me of when I tried to make one out of a grapevine”.  I knew he was trying to make fun of me, but I didn’t take the bait.  Or I thought I didn’t.  I woke up this morning, still thinking of his comment, so obviously I was bothered by it in some way, although this person’s opinion really has nothing to do with my life.  So, I pondered, why is my heart shaped the way it is?  These thoughts came to me, my daughter is going to be 26 this year, and has been married a little under a year.  Of course, her heart is perfect.  I, on the other hand, am 55, been married for almost 34 years, and have had 2 children, too many pets to count, several houses, jobs, moves etc, all the fun things life has to bring.  So, my heart has been broken, repaired, stretched to its limit (but I doubt that), and has grown so much bigger to encompass all this it is.  I would like to think that the experiences I have been through (good or bad, my choice of perception) have allowed my heart to grow so big that it can receive and send love in any situation.  I am currently not working at a job, so am home most of the day.  My husband will come home and ask me, “What did you do today?”, and I sometimes cheekily answer, “Saved the world from mass destruction.”, but I think I will now answer, “I loved. I sent so much love out today, that someone, somewhere, felt it, acknowledged it, and maybe, just maybe it helped them take that one more step, whatever that step may be for them.  That they understood that something, someone out there sent them love for no other reason than for Love’s sake."

Rambling #649

  

   I used to want to know everything.  Why I was in the world, why things happen, happy and sad things, how my world really worked, and sometimes I still do.  But then, I also remember that when I did find out something mind-blowing, I was happy for a while, but then sometimes would wish I had never found the information out, that I could step back into my tiny box and hide from the “knowingness”.  The recent attack in Manchester has me rattled, but not in the way most people are.  I have delved into so many different ways of thinking and looking at the world, starting out with basic religion, studying Christianity, Buddhism, Abraham, The Secret, Reiki, Shamanism, Wiccan and more, reading countless Christian authors, New Age authors, although I do not know why they are called “New Age” because their teachings are found in almost all religions, just packaged differently, and I guess I am still seeking the truth.  My truth. 

     I looked up the word “truth” for its definition and here were the first three that popped up:  1- the quality or state of being true, 2- that which is true in accordance with fact or reality, 3- a fact or belief that is accepted as true.  Number three rings true for me (ha, ha).  The majority of us accept as truth that we are born, we live a life, we die.  In between being born and dyeing, we live a life.  I do have the belief that we all choose a life on Earth.  We may not have read the fine print (who really does?), like a travel package all we see is “Fun!  Sunshine!  Relaxation!” or whatever your particular vacation would look like, I honestly do not remember the part about Sorrow, Broken hearts, Disease, Hardships etc.  I am still not clear if we choose our death in the beginning or if it has to do with the choices we make while we are here.  There are so many.  One of my favorite Dr. Who episodes is when Donna has the choice to go right or left.  If she chooses right, the world ends, if she chooses left, life goes on as normal, whatever that may be.  In the beginning, she chooses right, and then has to travel back in time in order to choose left.  I don’t know if we have that luxury.  Although there is a belief out there that parallel Universes exist with all the choices we have made, we are just not “in tune” with them.  I can understand why, it is hard enough to keep up with all the is going on with the one we are in tune with. 

      So. what is the point of this rambling?  I am not sure.  Just a reassurance to myself that all is well, that I am not in control, although I like to believe I am, that I do not have to know what is going on, I just have to, well that is it, I do not know what I am supposed to do.  Sometimes I think that petting my cat and being aware of her happiness and my happiness is enough, but then again sometimes I think I have to save a world that does not want saving.  

A year in an apartment- extended

   

      So here we are.  Back in San Antonio.  In an apartment.  The apartment search was rough.  We looked at over 25 apartments, driving all around the San Antonio area, acting like an episode of "House Hunters", my husband even jokingly said we couldn't make a decision because we didn't have a glass of wine while we were discussing the different pros and cons.  We finally settled on an apartment that was central to our wants and needs.  We know this area, in fact my first apartment is about 5 miles from us.
     The first couple of weeks is always a flurry of things to do, unpack, figure out where everything will go, adjusting to new light switches (I had just gotten used to the closet light switch being on the inside and now it is on the outside), changing addresses on accounts, and buying things for the apartment, because each place has its own needs.
      Now the quiet descends.  My husband has weird work hours right now, and adjusting to a different routine is not his strong suit.  He likes having me here when he leaves and when he gets home, and has asked me not to look for a job until things settle down and/or after our vacation to Colorado at the end of July.  That is a long time for me to not have anything to do.  I thought it would be super hard to find something to do all day, but I have found it is quite easy to waste the day away, Facebook, Pinterest, reruns of my favorite shows.  I sometimes feel guilty that I have all this time, and I should be reading my upteen books I haven't read, I should be meditating, doing something constructive, but then I realize I am doing something constructive, just by being here and because I am not in a frenzy of having so much to do, I notice things more, I acknowledge things, people, plants, etc.
     The other day I was at the grocery store and I noticed an elderly gentleman on a bench.  I stopped and smiled at him and he smiled back.  It was so simple, but it was an acknowledgement of his existence.  There are so many times I have been in a hurry that I did not realize what was happening around me.  It is so easy for me to get caught up in my mindless thoughts that I forget to think, see, hear, breathe.  I have also noticed in my mindless thinking that stray memories are popping into my head of times when I got mad about things that did not really matter.  As the memories came up, I silently said the Ho'oponopono prayer, "I am sorry, please forgive me, I love you, thank you."  I've even giggled out loud sometimes as these memories pop into my head, and my husband will go "What is so funny?" and I just laugh and say, "Oh just a silly memory popping up in my head."  So, maybe this down time is not so much for him, but for me.  I will enjoy this time.  I will appreciate that I have been given this opportunity to learn more about myself, about others, and continue on this one of a kind journey.
   

Thank you Colorado....

         

 I know why I don’t live in Colorado.  And I know why moving back to San Antonio is not a problem for me.  For so long, I have wanted to move to Colorado.  I loved the way I felt when I was there, my Soul soared, and it felt like home.  Funny thing is, I don’t need the Colorado mountains to feel that way anymore.  I always cried when leaving Colorado, believing I was leaving part of my Soul behind.  Or that I could not capture that wonderful feeling unless I was in Colorado.  I am not saying that I will not ever visit there again, or that I may not ever live there.  It is just that the longing is no longer there.  The insistence that it was the only place I could be happy is gone.  I have found my happiness inside of me.  I can go to that place where I feel whole and well at any Time.  And if I leave that space, (which actually is just an illusion, because you can never really leave yourself), turn my attention in another direction, it is always my choice.  And I can choose when to return, or when to turn my attention back to that space of wholeness, wellness, completeness.

     It is like the child who runs from their mother, falls down, runs back to receive love and reassurance and runs again from their mother.  It is a constant receiving and letting go.  I realize that as I grew older, I did not take time to run back to myself, my center, after my excursions of the human kind.  It was not a process I was taught as a child, and I don’t remember when it happened when running to my mother no longer gave me the feeling of being safe.  I do not mean that in a bad way.  All of nature does it.  All mother’s reject their young, causing or rather allowing them to grow up and be on their own.  We must learn to stand on our own two feet, to navigate this life, to learn to fall on our own and pick ourselves back up. 

     Life becomes easier and more fun as we realize every time we have an experience that is not pleasant for us, we can detach from it, go to our center, be revitalized and go out again for more experiences.  Each time we touch base with whom we really are, our adventures become ones of our own choosing allowing expansion and growth. 

     So I am letting Colorado go.  And not in a sad way, of “I am giving up on this dream and I will never see you again”, but in a way of gratitude, for bringing to my attention that feeling that I was missing of being whole and complete and understanding that I never really was.  I mean how do you know that you love the smell of horses unless you have been around them?  How do you know that the beach is where you find solace unless you have experienced it?   How do you know the smell of pork chops and sauerkraut makes you feel at home unless your Daddy cooked them for you?  How do you know your Soul unless you have had experiences where you have not felt it?  It was always there.  It is always there.  These proddings from the Soul of beautiful life experiences are there to remind us that our Soul is always there, and although we have had these experiences that brought us much pleasure, they were just there to guide us back to ourselves.  Every experience is to bring us back to ourselves.  You get to choose how they are perceived.  Wow, just an “Aha” moment.  Definition of Free Will- “We get to choose how to perceive our experiences.”  Take a deep breath on that one and allow.  Breathe and Allow.  

21 days left in Grapevine

    

   It has been a very interesting year, I have learned a lot about myself.  I have enjoyed my patio immensely; my new patio won’t have as much room or the open view of the sky, but it will serve my needs.  And although I have spent the last 38 years trying to get out of San Antonio since my family moved there in 1979, I have this feeling I am going back to an old friend.  Maybe it is time to reconcile with San Antonio.  I have always “blamed” others for me being there, my family for moving me there in the last month of my junior year in high school, my husband for keep taking jobs back in that area, but as I have grown, “nothing” just happens.  I am the orchestrater of my life, or rather my Soul is, and for some unknown reason, San Antonio is where I am meant to be.  I am at the point I do not even have to know the reason.  My friends and family know I love Colorado.  I love the way I feel there, my heart soars, and I breathe in the fresh mountain air and just let me eyes rest on the beauty surrounding me.  Reno held the same magic for me, and I will always be grateful for the 1 ½ years I lived there.  I call it my year and half vacation, it is hard to describe just how those mountains stirred my Soul, plus I made some life-long friends. 

     As much as my Soul longs to be in the mountains of Colorado, my Soul also understands that it came here to experience life in a physical body.  And San Antonio is where my life is now.  My son, my daughter and her husband, my mother and father, my brother and his wife and lots and lots of friends.  I know San Antonio and San Antonio knows me.  There are so many pluses to living in San Antonio, one big one of only being 2 hours away from Port Aransas, and when I think of relaxing, I think of Port A.  It will be one of our first things to do after settling in.  I am also ready to settle down and call somewhere “home”.  I have always loved moving, meeting new people and experiencing new places, but I feel the journeys I will take now are more inward. 

     My friends here keep asking if I am going to continue in the wine business.  I laugh and say, “No, I am looking for something I am passionate about.”, which is funny because I am very passionate about drinking wine!  I never know where my next job will come from.  The last 4 jobs I have had, have literally dropped into my lap so I am open to the Universe as to what comes next.  Who needs me and whom do I need to continue my journey?  (in an easy and fun way!)

     I am going to miss Grapevine.  It is a wonderful town, people here take pride in keeping it clean and the landscaping is beautiful.  I am going to miss the people I have worked with, such an awesome crew, I am definitely going to miss the great pool here, and the proximity of everything so close, and not a lot of traffic, unless you have to get on the highways.  I am sure one day I will look back and see this as some sort of vacation, this little town in-between two large metropolises, keeping those small town values and allowing visitors to feel comfortable, a little vacation spot from the busyness of life.  And isn’t that what we all long for?  A respite from the busyness of life?

What I Was Created For.....

  

A monk decided to meditate alone, away from his monastery. He took his boat out to the middle of the lake, moored it there, closed his eyes and began meditating. After a few hours of undisturbed silence, he suddenly felt the bump of another boat colliding with his own.

With his eyes still closed, he felt his anger rising, and by the time he opened his eyes, he was ready to scream at the boatman who had so carelessly disturbed his meditation. But when he opened his eyes, he was surprised to find that it was an empty boat that had struck his own. It had probably gotten untethered and floated to the middle of the lake.

At that moment, the monk had a great realization. He understood that the anger was within him; it merely needed the bump of an external object to provoke it out of him. From then on, whenever he came across someone who irritated him or provoked him to anger, he would remind himself, that the other person was merely an empty boat, the anger was within him.

     This story on my Facebook page today rang true to me.  Right after I read it, I walked into the living room and on the morning news the anchors were interviewing an author stating something to the affect that because more moms were working, there were more problems with children acting up.  This brought up anger in me.  Pretty funny, because the above quote is just about that.  I immediately went into attack mode, saying to myself, that is not true, there are plenty of moms who don’t work, and their children are not the stars of the show.  Then I chuckled to myself, “Where did that come from?”  How did I feel threatened by this statement?  My children came out pretty well, thank you very much.  I was lucky, my husband worked two jobs so I could stay home with the kids while they were young and when they started school I worked part-time so I could take them to school and pick them up and we did everything together, I was at dance practices, band practices, recitals, football games etc.  Maybe one the of differences was I was present while I was there.  I was not conducting business on my phone, or chit-chatting with friends, I was supporting my kids.  Chelsea used to get mad at me at dance recitals because I would yell out, “Go Chelsea!”, she finally asked her dance teacher to tell me not to do it.  I did it silently anyway.  And even though Robert never admitted it, I could see his big smile as he marched by when I yelled his name. 

     As I mulled over why I irritated about this new book, I realized I could not really make a conscience decision about the author or the book because I had not read it.  The news anchors had picked out what they thought was most important, or what would get the most ratings.  Again, I don’t know the process about what they decide to talk about.  It reminded me of a conversation I had yesterday with a customer.  I do not remember how the subject came up, but we started talking about Reiki.  I am a Reiki teacher, I love Reiki and it is a way of life for me, and I use it daily on myself.  She had questions, and I answered the best I could, but her biggest question was, “How do you reconcile doing Reiki with being a Christian?”  Now I guess she just assumed I was a Christian.  I was raised Catholic, and I don’t think that once you are raised in a faith, it ever leaves you, but I no longer belong to any “church”.  There are so many definitions of what being a Christian is, but my definition is I follow Jesus’ command of “Love One Another”.  It’s that simple.  At least for me.  I went on to explain that Reiki has no doctrine, it is not a religion, just a way for us to open up to our Creator’s love and be conduits of healing.  Some people are open enough to be able to heal immediately, laying on of hands, but I, like many others have life blocks that kept me from doing that, and so I took the classes and learned how to be a conduit for love.  That’s all it is.  Being open to the energy of love around us and focusing it; be it a person in need or a situation. She continued questioning and I picked my words carefully, trying to come from her frame of mind.  I told her Jesus healed, He did laying of hands, and He told us we could do everything that He could. 

     The conversation played out and then we went onto politics.  Funny, because I try never to talk about religion or politics.  She talked about the protests going on, and who she liked and such.  I put my two cents in and said, “If we would all just focus on the 99% of the good in the World, and not on 1% that is not good, we would all be much happier.  I pointed out the beautiful trees across the street, and talked about the beautiful town we live in, commenting on how the city takes such good care of keeping it clean, planting flowers and having artwork all over town for everyone to enjoy.  It did shift the conversation and it was a good ending. 

     What did all this teach me?  That I am still a work in progress.  I still have my prejudices, even with those who are seemingly in the same frame of mind.  But it also reminded me that I a work of beauty.  That I was created out love, am love.  And the more of that huge love I let through, the more I become what I was created for, Love.