Reconcile Part II

Synonyms: accommodate, accord, accustom, adjust, appease, arbitrate, arrange, assuage, attune, bring to terms, bring together, bury the hatchet, come together, compose, conciliate, conform, coordinate, fit, fix up, get together on, harmonize, integrate, intercede, kiss and make up, make matters up, make up, make peace, mediate, mitigate, pacify, patch things up, patch up, placate, propitiate, proportion, re-establish, reconciliation, rectify, regulate, resolve, restore harmony, reunite, settle, suit, tune, win over.

I had the most inspiring conversation with the most unlikely of people...my dad. He called last night knowing that huge changes were slowly taking place and wanted to check in with me. To say we've been estranged for significant parts of my life would be accurate. He has moved in and out of my time-line and I have learned to appreciate those moments he appears because they are never shallow. This phone call was no different. As if he knew what I needed to hear, he began telling me of Myself as a child. He ran through the early part of the time-line I have nearly forgotten. The part before everything fell apart between my parents. With all the love a father can feel for his daughter, he described the free-spirited, ever-questioning, stubborn little perfectionist I once was. He tells me he still sees her now as shy as ever when it comes to sharing what she loves. I told him I'd made progress (and I think I have)! But he still wishes he had encourage me more and would start doing it now. Right Now. He told me of every performance he had slipped into and out of...his thoughts on my writing, my photography...even the singing which is so deeply buried in memory his words could barely dig it out for me. He was reconnecting me with Me. It was his gift this holiday season. But he asked me for a gift, too. And I listened having given him nothing several years now. He asked me not to fear sharing. He asked me to trust myself and allow the emotions of all that is transpiring create the works I have hidden in me. He asked me not to be a perfectionist and critical of what I was creating. Yeah...it was a full fledged rockin' pep talk. And my heart heard every word. What am I waiting for?


Allow Me...

...to explain: About three years ago, I picked up The Secret and I read it and I put it down and I thought, Hmmmmm? I'm not going to say that I didn't like it, it's just, as I read, I felt a tugging, literally, to put it down which, like I said, I did. Wow, that sentence had like seven commas. Anyway, something about it was resonating in me emotional discord. I tend to dissect under the duress of discord because I don't enjoy feeling that way. So, I went to my "trusty" computer -- not this one but the one that recently crashed on me making it my "rusty" computer -- and began to look up the author and the people referenced in the book. I enjoy the movie What the Bleep Do We Know? and have seen John Edward do his thang in the hollowed halls of a Radisson* so I'm down with weird. Give me weird...metaphysically speaking...and I'll send you a Thank You card. Which, I still owe Wikipedia because it was there in a tiny footnote I saw the name of Esther Hicks. Now, anyone you give value to has the potential to sell something. She is...uh, they are. The little I've bought would probably add up to a couple of sessions of psychiatric therapy, though, I don't know the going rates these days so I could be way off. I do know I've spent more on iTunes in the past week. So please, for now, put aside any thoughts that money is their modus operandi and liken it to anyone with a special talent who might actually be driven by their passion which in turn creates cha-ching. Okay, so where am I going with this? Why ramble? It's not from a strong sense to justify nor from a need to really be understood, I just want to share my perspective of why I love these "laws", that I post so often, that are at the foundation of creating, IMHO. The the simple equations at the heart of attracting, allowing and manifesting. Since I was little, I've gone looking for God. In the early days, it was like Where's Waldo? It was fun. Many children have the ability to feel the joy of the Divine in everything around them, I think, until they are pull away from themselves. It happens in so many ways. I think the idea of Hell does not help. It's an on going joke that I've been baptized in various churches. Theoretically, I can say anything in this blog and get away with it. It seemed a sanely rational thing to do if I was to increase my odds of never going to that place. If you have a problem, fix it. I had a problem with individual doctrines telling me contradicting truths. I finally just gave it all up after a bad case of swimmer's ear. Hell with it (pun intended)! Luckily, I retained my audio facilities which aided me in listening to myself more closely. And I was doing pretty well there for awhile. Naturally manifesting. Then I began to yield to lives other than my own. I began to manifest by default too overwhelmed, too tired, too lost to offer up deliberate thought. There is no way of getting around creating. I am so getting that. We do it every moment. There is no way of not being a part of the larger Source living and moving through us. The driving force for me is the dynamic nature of the thoughts being offered up by Abraham's dialogues. I steer clear from using the words "teachings" or "education" which I consider synonymous for doctrine. Thoughts are dynamic energy and ever changing and expanding, as clearly as we are, if we allow. I had not been purposefully asking and certainly not allowing for my greater good for so long. Anyway, I've not joined a club. I'm not part of a cult. I am in my home, alone, meditating on how I want my life to unfold. Reaching for good feeling thoughts like a child reaches for a mother ready to respond. Embracing Unconditional Love, I am seeing the fruits of my deliberate asking through thought. I am seeing the manifestation of my willingness to allow life to be what it is around me while seeking to be Waldo's joyful playmate again. Life IS good. It's Gummi-Bear good.

*Some people might not know!

Mantra for 2010

I must be the -- loving, creative, joyful -- change I wish to see in the world.



On a networking site that I'm completely addicted to there was a quiz asking: Which tattoo should you get? It struck me, as I was whizzin' though the answers, that I've never had any real desire to have a tattoo. Adorning my body permanently is not something I spend much thought energy on. But when I did, I felt the weight (and possible pain) of a serious commitment. Subconsciously, I might have pushed such thoughts even deeper into a plane of detachment after a blood draw during my pregnancy with my son. The Novice Nurse with a Needle story. I can't even Once Upon A Tell it because it is such a vivid and nauseating memory. I have a high threshold for pain. Natural childbirth? Nothing. Root Canal? Bring it on. But, since 1996, I've had a difficult time with needles. But I might be making progress because I did invite this thought: If I were to get one, what would it be? Like all trusting moments in faith, I cast the thought out onto the ethereal sea and knew some sign would wash up. And it did...on my phone...after dropping it...in the crazy morning hours of Christmas...while "children were" NOT "nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads" because they were trying to get a glimpse of Old Saint Nick. Yes. The sign arrived at 4:34 A.M.. Yes. A as in Ahhhh and M as in Mannn. For the last several months, I'd had Life Is Good as my screensaver. I think it sorta sums things up. I had no intention of changing it. The phone-gods had other plans. Rather than punish me for being so careless they offered up a visual to motivate me through my exhaustion: The Lotus Flower

Now, where to put it?



a. to restore to harmony
b. to settle, to resolve
c. to make consistent or congruous
d. to cause to submit to or accept something unpleasant

Those old habits don't have to be erased, they just become replaced by a new habit that is more in vibrational harmony with who you are and what you want.
--- Law of Attraction

What do I want? That is the meditation. As in anything that is asked, I am listening for the answers because, I have learned, they do come. I exchanged my old habits of doubt and fear with new ones. Love and Trust have been wonderful friends to me lately. I know that Source is my provider. I know Source is my strength. I never understood my Catholic grandmother's conviction towards the Virgin until now. All that was deemed good and pure, to Julia, was represented in Mary's arms. She was Source creating Source. I don't know that my grandma would agree but through her and then her son, I came into the world. With my new found confidence, I'm thinking that's not too shabby a thing to pull off. In this moment, I'm seeking balance. A reconciliation with Me and me in the most loving and respectful ways possible. I know it must be done without submission to something unpleasant. But Love and Trust are the kind of friends that would never demand that of me...Me...ever.


Dreaming of Joy

Her thoughts spirals down a staircase of her youth opening into an abandoned store filled with racks and shelves of forgotten joy. She flips through the clearance with hope filling her purse that hangs from one arm while an old, tired shirt dangles loosely from her other. She is flipping and flipping and the colors of the fabrics merge together like the years -- there is the small, pink housecoat, the purple jumper she stained with blackberries, the yellow birthday dress her mother made for her when she turned eight, maybe nine -- and the colors dance into her memory. She lets go of the worn, tired shirt and as it falls to the floor the room begins spinning and spinning and spinning sweeping her into the brilliant colors of her existence, folding and unfolding, like a kaleidoscope twirling towards the sun.


Mobile Mysticism

If the entire world was a forest, it might be said that I live in the shade under a very small tree. I drive where very few stoplights dictate traffic flow. I dawdle in a place where moving from one end of town to the other requires little in the way of my life expectancy. The lackadaisical approach, frankly, is just to pass the time. Where I am is not physically beautiful. The macro has much to be desired but looking closer this tiny bit of world is magnificent. It is a small collection of people of various shapes, sizes, sounds and hearts whom I have chosen to open up the real of mine. Warm and inviting, I lean into names and faces who have become so familiar they feel like my old beat up flannels. It is a place that knows everyone's business. Public and private. It's a place that knows mine. And I have come into the business of Myself. Granted, it doesn't pay well yet but I like my boss. Moreover, I like the love that those names and faces invest in this selfish venture of mine. It is here that I have found my connection to the larger playful Me. That expansive child running wild about the Universe taking this brief moment in this lifetime to stop and rest in the shade under this very small tree. Where we head next is selfishly up to Me.


Tenfold: #4

I have been writing plays since I was five years old. Somewhere in the archives of my mother's bedroom closet there is probably the original Little Bunny Foo-Foo script. Sadly, my spelling has not improved since then but anyone with common sense knows Litel is Little and Bune is Bunny. I might mention that my handwriting hasn't seen any more development since those chunky little fingers put crayon to grocery sack. Anyway, not surprising, in the time of that writing, I had very little self-criticism. I liked all of it. I was marvelous. Later, I tapped into astrology as guide to character development. It was a short cut. A fun way to cheat. I wrote for myself and was enjoying it. But, somewhere, my mind got in the way. Or rather, I decided that I needed the minds of others to measure my marvelousness. Oddly, with my Sun, Moon, Mercury, Venus, Uranus and Pluto in Virgo, I had no business asking for criticism. If anyone knows anything about the stars, a Virgo can be very critical with her most vulnerable subject being herself. So, upon hearing the minds of others, I found myself no longer hopping through the forest, scooping up the field mice and boppin' 'em on the head. It was I who had been bopped on the head. And it hurt. And any truly wounded writer resorts to poetry. Which I did. And I thought it was marvelous and showed it to no one just to keep it that way. Then the most extraordinary thing happened. My son was born. And in the mix of his 13 years of living in this physical world the way he does, he has gifted me an understanding of behavioral analysis, particularly, in predicting his wants and needs. And what is playwriting but the study of human behavior? At least the type of stories I desire to tell. Without going into the details of reinforcement contingencies, extinction procedures, or shaping maladaptive behaviors, it's safe to say I have some sense of human motivation. Human desire. The stuff of creation. And, recently, I went back to the drawing board on the heels of my two fire signs in Jupiter and Saturn inviting the passion of my Scorpion Mars along with the compassion of my Scorpion Neptune to join the party. Translated: I forgave myself for not being perfect and just began to write. I've even used crayons...