Yesterday was my birthday. It is not one of those big ones, just a number. Birthdays never meant much to me because during my long dysfunctional marriage, my birthday was rarely celebrated. I suppose now I can chalk it up to his mental illness which I didn’t really have any comprehension of at the time. But whatever, that’s a thing long past, and I don’t want to give it my time and energy. I bring it up to contrast those years, with the two I have spent with Dan, who makes it a big deal and loves to shower me with attention and gifts.

This year, a couple of weeks before my birthday, he began researching gongs. I am still looking for a gong bath down here. I hear rumors, but they never pan out. I have begun to talk about buying a couple of them that are affordable, and some singing bowls, maybe a drum or two, and perhaps holding my own gong baths here. I feel confident in my knowledge of sound/vibrational healing. I only needed a gong to begin with. Dan found some that were hundreds of $$, as opposed to the thousands of $$$ that I had thought. So I began to plot ways to earn the money to buy one.

But the next thing I knew, one was being delivered to my door. A beautiful 30” symphonic gong. And a stand to hang it on. We set it up and began just fooling around with it, and the sounds it can make. I began a couple of on-line courses on how to play one, as well as other sound/vibrational instruments. While Dan doesn’t really buy into my spiritual path, he is totally respectful of it. He really enjoys the sound and playing of the singing bowls. I have owned a Tibetan bowl for a long time, and we also have a crystal one. He enjoys playing the gong as well.

So I am embarking on a new journey. A sound healing facilitator. It’s kind of ironic, because I have always been terrified to get up in front of a crowd. But I don’t feel any fear of this. I believe in it, having done so much good healing work myself through the gongs. I know with some practice I can bring that to others. I feel I can start with my two groups that I meet with regularly, my writers group and my spirit girls. I can bring them into my house and practice on them, and I’m pretty sure they will love it. I know of a couple places that I could rent space fairly cheaply, or I can just have small groups of 4 or 5 in my house. I could even do individual sound healings if I got a massage table for someone to lie on.

I’m also looking into learning different modalities of energy healing. Here in Florida, you have to have a massage therapists license to practice reiki. It’s a stupid law, reiki has nothing to do with massage, there is no manipulation of muscles or anything else, just a gentle laying on of hands as most of you know. But if I can perform a different modality of energy healing, and combine it with the gongs, I might be able to make some extra money at it, and I’d be doing something I love and believe in.

So, it seems, my birthdays have gotten much lovelier, and my life is beginning to head down a path that I am pretty excited about. The picture at the top is my gong from Dan. How lucky am I?

Love and light to all.

Last night I survived the invasion of the body snatchers. For real. At least in my slightly demented mind, I was in serious danger. Creepy aliens invading my house.

We were watching TV. I saw something crawling down my door. I thought it was a gecko. They are plentiful here. You cannot walk outside without seeing many of them. I told Dan, “Look! A gecko is on the door!” Now geckos don’t scare anyone. They are cute, eat bugs and everyone gets them in the house every once in a while. But Dan, whose eyes are slightly better than mine at a distance, said “NO! It’s a palmetto bug.”

I think my eyes were like saucers. Because this thing was big, maybe 3” long. The biggest I have seen here, in my house. And they give me the total creeps. A 3” cockroach…..He got up and began looking for it. We saw it run out from under my couch (HOW THE HELL DID IT GET FROM THE DOOR TO THE COUCH? In seconds?) Then we saw it run across the floor. Finally, Dan managed to find it and somehow got it shooed out the door, and slammed the door shut. When he sat down we were both rather shaken, lol, and felt like there had been more than one because this creepy alien kept running around. We settled back in to watch TV.

Or so we thought. Another large, though not THAT large, ran out from under the couch, across Dan’s foot. I ran to the utility closet and got out my spray can of roach killer. Because after all, palmettos are just a giant cockroach. Dan found it hiking up the bathroom door, and began to spray. Like, trying to drown him. I guess he succeeded, because it slowed down and then stopped, and Dan picked him up in a paper towel and disposed of him. I did not even ask him how, because I didn’t want to know that he squished it in the paper. I myself am loathe to pick up even a totally dead one, with a paper towel.

So now the score is humans 2, palmettos 0. We sat again, to watch TV. And again, I saw one running down the front door. Dan grabbed the can, which was down to just a few squirts left, chased him into the bathroom, and sprayed what was left onto this ugly ginormous bug, which can fly (!!!). This one began to die his slow death, and Dan put him out of his misery too. UGH. UUGGHH!!!

Humans 3, aliens 0.

We actually saw 3 more of these what appear to be man-eating creatures, but they were running so fast to hide under the furniture, and the fact is we were out of spray now, that we just silently prayed that they wouldn’t find their way into the bedroom as we slept. We made a note to get to the hardware store first thing in the morning for more spray.

Luckily, we were both exhausted because Dan’s daughter and two grandsons (ages 7 and 9) came in from Denver yesterday and we were so busy all day with them, that we fell asleep easily. Well, easily after we came to the conclusion that there was no place open at 11 pm where we could run out and get another can of roach killer.

So we managed to get a good night’s sleep. When we woke up and started moving around, we found the other 3 monster cockroaches dead on the floor. One in the bedroom, one in the living room, one in the bathroom. I’m taking a guess that the bug spray on the floor killed them as they ran through it. Dan picked up one and opened the front door to throw it outside, and there, stuck in the door jam, was the first one, the one Dan managed to chase out the front door, the fucking monster creepy crawly man-eating bug thing, his head squished in the jam and his big crunchy body sticking out into the doorway.

AAAACCCCHHHHH!!!!!!

But, humans 6, roaches 0.

And now we have another can of cockroach spray. We are ready. We haven’t seen one since. Thank God.

My apologies to anyone who thinks I am cruel, or Dan. Especially those who don’t live with these creepy things on a daily basis. Just for the record, they usually don’t travel in packs. Usually you get one maybe every couple months, and they are usually on their back, legs up in the air, when you find them. NOT f-ing racing around your living room like they are on speed. Actually, they are like a cockroach on steroids on speed.

Tomorrow I’ll tell you about the damn grasshoppers that are eating all my plants. No? Enough about bugs for the time being. Just know that the tropics breed HUGE bugs. HUGE. Here is a picture, in case you don’t understand the level of creepy-ness these creatures have.

Love and light to everyone, except the damn palmettos.

The past revisits us occasionally, doesn’t it? Things pop up unexpectedly to remind us of our successes and failures of a lifetime. Some things are a pleasure to remember: summer days of our youth, love and contentment with our families, summer vacations at sea or on the beach. Others things from our past don’t evoke such pleasant memories. Instead, they remind us that we made bad choices, that we were hurt, that others were hurt by our actions. That the outcomes were not what we actually wanted.

Those memories can’t be forgotten though, can they? They have to be learned from. I mean, they are lessons for our lives, right? So, did we learn the lessons? I keep asking myself that.

It’s often just a momentary, fleeting memory that draws the past into the present. They don’t last long, and I can usually just flagellate myself for a second over a stupid choice I made, and then get on with my life. I believe that I’ve learned many of the lessons of my past, because I can say that I presently have the life I always wanted. Oh, it’s not without its own set of lessons, of discomforts but none of them presently can cause me to take a dive into self-pity, or regretfulness. I’ve made bad choices in the past, and hopefully learned from them. Feeling like my ability to clearly evaluate a choice I have to make is much sharper, much more in alignment with my true self, than it was even a few short years ago. I guess time will tell if my optimism is substantiated, but sometimes you just know. That’s how I feel now, like I just know that things will continue to rise, if I stay on this path.

So the point is, reminders from a past we are not particularly proud of don’t have to drive us backward. They can, actually, drive us forward to remind us not to make that mistake again. Just stand back from it for a minute, look at it objectively, not with a subjective personal view. We do the best we can from our state of consciousness at the time. I mean, seriously, I was conservative at one time. But when I began to learn to open my heart, and feel compassion, I couldn’t possibly maintain that perspective. I am still fairly conservative fiscally, but the things I think are worth spending money on have changed a lot. I’ve made choices in men that were not in my best interest. Choices that wasted my time, or drove me down, choices that didn’t honor myself. Like most people.

So, when I glimpse a memory, or a voice, a picture, from the past that might tweak my sensibilities for a moment, I generally just continue on the path that has led me to the place I am at. I don’t respond to it if I know no good will come from it. I just note it, and remind myself why it is in the past, and don’t delve into it, unless it somehow presents new information which allows me to understand myself better. Forward, in the present moment, is the only direction in which I can move if I want to continue rising.

Which I do. One of my favorite books is Rising Strong by Brene Brown. The universe conspired to put it in my face on a day when I was, as I paraphrase Brene, down on the floor with no idea how to get up. Literally. I’d spent the day in tears, and late in the day saw Brene on Oprah’s SuperSoulSunday, in an interview about the book. I had it on my kindle before the show was over. I began to learn that day, how to rise strong, and I continue to learn. It’s work, but it’s very satisfying to be able to look at those times when we think we’re down for the count, to see the memories as something that helped us grow, not as something that beat us down.

I’m not sure what inspired this post, but it seems I had something to say. Which is not unusual, lol. So here’s to cherishing our memories. The good ones, and the not-so-good ones that taught us important lessons. Here’s to rising, always rising.

Love and light to all.

I’ve had a Peace Lily in my house since I moved out of my ex-husband’s house. My sister gave me one when I moved into a condo, where I remained for the 4 years I worked to end that relationship. My cat loved batting at the leaves, thereby shredding them, and just about killed it. It wasn’t really happy there,and neither was I, but managed to survive just until I was ready to move.

Then when I moved into my house, my dream house, I bought another, and put it in the corner of my formal living room, with big vaulted ceilings and skylights. That plant was very happy there, for the 5 years it lived there. There were times I was getting 12 blossoms on it at once. But then, my son and I was happy there, and I suppose it got that vibe. When I moved I gave it to one of my best friends, who has an incredibly green thumb and it’s still thriving, as far as I know.

When I moved to Florida, I bought yet one more. It’s lived inside and outside, but seems to like my desk the most. It has done well, but has been looking a little peaked, with some leaves turning yellow and brown, and dying. So, the other day Dan and I went to Home Depot and got a new, bigger pot, and some new soil. We came home and began the repotting thing.

The old pot was maybe a 8” pot. The new pot is 15”. It needed a lot more soil. But what it really needed was to have it’s roots thinned out. Dan said he’d never seen a plant so potbound. Weird, how my plant in my house in CT never got repotted, and thrived. This one which I’ve had half as long, was ridiculous. Though, I’m guessing the pot on the one I have here was much smaller than the old one.

So, we did this repotting about a week ago. The pot is one of those self-watering pots so we filled it with water, and left for Dan’s for a few days. When we got back to my house yesterday, the plant looked so much better! The leaves were regaining their color, and seemed full. New leaves are sprouting up, and I was delighted to find a new lily bud popping through!

Please note that I do NOT have a green thumb and do very little gardening. This plant and one other, and a few herbs are the extent of my gardening experience. But I have to say how satisfying it is to see the plant begin to fade, and then see it beginning to thrive again. It has encouraged me to at least see if I can’t find a way to grow some things, like beans, and cherry tomatoes, in addition to the few herbs (basil for caprese!, parsley, maybe some chives and rosemary.) I need them to be in the boxes you can set high enough to work on them standing up. My knees would argue with me if I tried to kneel and weed. And I’m thinking I could maybe plant a lime tree somewhere.

Honestly, I don’t want to get into a whole new passion. I already have writing, jewelry making, the boat, 2 homes between Dan and I. I don’t have much time to give them, but I can carve out some…

Dan’s pretty knowledgeable about growing things. He’s had some good suggestions. I don’t know if this will become a reality or not, but one thing is for sure. That peace lily makes me smile every time I walk by it. I’d like to multiply that good vibe a little. You know, spread the happiness out my back door and see what happens.

Love and light everyone.

Dear Young Me,

There is a lesson you need to learn young one. Well, actually, a lot of them. You think you are so wise, so much smarter than those who have gone before. Your heart is good, and willing, so I’m going to try to teach you.

Words mean things. They are how we communicate knowledge, and understanding, and feelings. Don’t just let them flow from your head to your mouth thoughtlessly. Remember that time you said the n-word on the school bus, and how utterly ashamed you felt after? And I still feel bad about that, and banned the word from my vocabulary, and my house, and my thoughts. Let love and compassion drive the words you say. Be honest, and honorable in all your communication.

I remember the stories you told, like the one you told about meeting a superstar when you were 14. Just to see if people would believe you, and guess what? They did. Did that make you special? No. It made you a liar. How did you feel when you were found out? Not good, right? You were then known by at least a couple people as a liar. It is only to those people’s credit that no one else ever found out. I have said many times in the last 6 or 7 years, that the Universe will spit out a lie, and it will come back and slap you upside the head. One lie usually leads to another and another, and when the house of cards falls down, it can bury you.

You will meet people who are not uncomfortable with lying, and will tell another and another til there are so many layers of lies covering the original lie that the real truth is obscured for those who can’t see clearly. Endeavor to see clearly. Don’t ignore the red flags that are flying. Trust your gut. If it doesn’t feel right, then it’s not for you. In the words of Maya Angelou, when someone tells you who they are, believe them. The first time. Look how you believed the story about Bruce being in the Pan Am games. Well, he wasn’t. It was a story he made up. Look at the ways his affection ebbed and flowed, never consistent. You knew in your gut you aren’t being treated well, yet, you blew off his bad behavior and made excuses for it.

I want to talk to you about knowing yourself. Make time for introspection. Going through your self-check list honestly and deeply allows you to live more authentically. Do you know what you want from this life, and are you living in such a way as to facilitate your dreams? At the same time, ask yourself: Are you being loving? Willing? Do you listen to others who need to tell their story? Were you compassionate to those who needed it? Were you truthful with your words? Was your anger valid, or misplaced? Were your actions congruent with the person you are, and want to be? Are you learning your lessons, those hard soulful lessons? Are you following through with your intentions, even when the going gets tough?

Since I was once you, I know the answer to these questions. I know that you tended to make other’s dreams your own quite often, assisting them in achieving their dreams, but never giving yourself the same consideration. Remember when you wanted to go back to school, and get your teaching degree. And remember how Bruce made you feel, as if you were abandoning him and his dreams? So you didn’t go, instead you filled an obligation he had thrust on you, to do for him. Never, not once, does he ask you what you want, and try to assist you. And you just went along with him, thinking it was your duty, or oblgation as his wife, or out of fear of breaking the marriage or the family? It wasn’t A red flag, it was many. In fact there is, most of the time, one or more of them flying, and you, running from the obligation to yourself, turning a blind eye to them. You are non-confrontational ALL the time, even when it’s necessary.

You have to be courageous. You have to be willing to put yourself out there, and not be fearful of the repercussions. Or inspite of your fear of the repercussions. Because, they will be what they will be, but if you are behaving in a manner that honors yourself, your wishes, your desires to be a good person, trust me, that’s where you will go. The only way to the other side of a lot of things, is through them. Like right through the middle of them. Not around, not above, not below. Not waiting til a better time, not giving in, not pushing them under the rug and pretending you don’t need to deal with it. Just pull up your big girl panties, and push through. You spend so much time in fear, young one, and fear is the longest, hardest, and least rewarding of all.

I wish I’d done this at your age. I wish I’d been more thoughtful, more cognizant, more able to discern truth from lies. Strong enough to walk away when the ending was apparent. Strong enough to walk toward life, and love, away from anger and disappointment. I wish I’d loved myself more. By that I mean that I wish I’d behaved in ways that honored myself more. I wish I’d shown up, and allowed myself to be seen and heard, and not allowed myself to be intimidated by other people. Everything I am telling you are things I wish I’d done at your age.

You don’t want to get old and have a lot of regrets. Regrets are a weight on us, on our souls and our psyche. We all have them, but you have to try to keep them to a minimum. You don’t want to get to my age, and suddenly realize that most of your life was lived under a canopy of fear, not love.

But now I’m going to tell you something that seems opposite. You WILL go through some difficult times. You will have days you want to lay down and cry, remove yourself from the world. Days where you don’t know what to do, where confusion is the order of the day. You will choose badly and have to undo the damage. We believe lies. We gossip. We make up stories and get caught, like the lie you told Mom where you were that time in high school. We all make mistakes. Every single one of us.

But a mistake is only a mistake if there’s no lesson learned. So, I want you to always, when you go through a difficult minute, hour, day, month, or year, become proactive and think about what YOU could have done to make it different. How you could have reacted differently to create a different outcome. What lesson can you learn from this mistake? Even though there are some people who choose use mistakes as a way of holding us down, convincing us that we are not worthy of anything good, always know that you are worthy of love and belonging. Believe in yourself, and live in such a way that you honor yourself.

I know you better than anyone. And I can say, You are enough. You are so enough. It’s unbelievable how enough you are.

Love,

You.