don't. yes. wait, stop. okay, go.

I'm going to apologize for this post before we even get started.  So.  Sorry.  But I chortled and snarked all the way through.  Maybe a bit of an Andy Rooney moment for me.

I was in my bathroom getting ready this morning, examining the silver hairs streaking through my locks and thinking about expectations.  A lot of my friends (and one extremely close family member in particular whom I worship and adore) would look at me in this slowly-advancing state of salt-and-pepper and use the word, "hag."  Besides the silvers (they're not grey, they're silver), my hair is probably a little too long. A little too frizzy.  Oh, I could take the time to blow dry, grease it with Moroccan Oil, dye it back to its original monotone chestnut color, but I'm not sure I care.  Anna Wintour says that any woman of a certain age should cut her hair above her shoulders.  Hmmmm...  yah, no.

thanks, DD, for a nice, demonstrative pic of my hag hair ;-)

There are lots of rules like Ms. Wintour's here in America - social norms we call them, if I'm remembering the term from 11th grade Sociology correctly.  Don't wear white between Labor Day and Memorial Day.  Don't eat on public transit.  Greet people with one kiss on the right cheek (unless you are a New Yorker who pretends to be a European, then you deliver one kiss on each cheek while scanning for other more important friends in the room).  Do not invade a stranger's 18 inch bubble.  Get married before you make babies.  Hold your tongue in an elevator.  Tip anyone in the service industry.  Etc, etc, etc.

And then there's the cursing.  Oh, the cursing.

I know there are social rules about cursing, but I still go back and forth on how I feel about it.  Those who read my blog faithfully are familiar with my ease at dropping eff bombs.  Writing for me is a passionate release, a focused meditation - and often times my fingers fly over the keyboard so quickly that I barely know what I'm writing until I'm done.  If a few unclassified words end up in the mix, who am I to edit them?

Plus.  In real life, I quite enjoy the eff word.  I use it occasionally.  Maybe too occasionally.  But I don't place any verbal value on it, except as a non-verbal verbal that lets people know that I am flawed.  (Though most wouldn't need four letter word to see that.)

And then there's always pressure to stifle the cursing in front of the kids.  Tell me.  When it comes to parenting, what is right?  Apologize for letting "shit" escape in front of the kids?  Don't apologize for letting "shit" escape in front of the kids.  (Maybe they didn't notice???)  Is hell a cuss or a place?  Is ass a donkey or a bum?  Is fart okay?  What about penis and vagina?  I think they're good.  But not in school.  Boobs?  Butt?  Shut up?  How 'bout the modern alternative - Shut it?  Is it okay that my 7 year old knows all the words to "I'm Sexy and I Know It"?  Is it okay that my 5 year old sings "Red Solo Cup" and that I think it's kind of funny when she says, "And you, sir, do not have a pair of testicles if you prefer drinking from glasses."  (I mean, she's almost 6, really, but that's still pretty bad, right?)

I actually spend time pondering the spiritual repercussions of cursing.  Oh, yes, I do.  I mean, it's about 49th on my list of priorities, squeaking in just after emptying my mom's dog's anal sacks, but the spiritual questions are there.

Is cursing an unmindful form of communication?  Is cursing offensive?  Yes, I suppose it is.  But why?  I guess I know why, but is it because God cares?  When I splatter searing hot bacon grease on my bare arm and shout, "JESUS!" does Jesus give a shit, ahem, I mean give a damn, ahem, I mean give a rat's ass... oh whatever.  You know what I mean.  But really.  Does he?  And does he / He / HE care if I capitalize or not?  Honestly, I'm thinking no.  And if, by some small chance, I'm right and God doesn't care, why do some people care so much?

(Whew!  Tangent.)

But, like I said, it's not just cursing, it's everything.  There are hundreds of social norms that differ greatly from culture to culture.  Wave with the back of your hand in Greece, cover your shoulders in Morocco, don't be American in England, take off your shoes upon entering a house in Japan, wear thongs on the beach and bikinis to the grocery store in Brazil, wash your poopy bum with a communal bar of soap but only with your right hand in India, don't write in red ink in China, stare at people past the point of awkwardness then let your dirty white lap dog eat off your plate in France.  What is acceptable changes so vastly from country to country, it just makes me laugh.  Because it's all so funny, isn't it?  All these rules about living.

The rules in life are all so particular.  And peculiar.  Are these socially acceptable (and unacceptable) behaviors cast offs from religious orders?

Don't eat meat.
Don't eat meat with milk.
Don't eat meat with milk on Fridays before sunset on the fourth night of a Harvest Moon.
Sit cross-legged with your hands open on your lap.
Sit with your middle fingers touching your thumbs.  No, your index fingers.
Don't sit.  Lay down.  Or stand up walk.  Just shut up and be quiet.
Wear an orange robe and only an orange robe.
Shave your head.  Let one piece grow.  Let two curls grow.  Let one long hair on your face grow.
Don't cut your hair.  Don't cut your beard.  Now hide it all in a turban.
Hide your hair, hide your shoulders, hide your ankles.  You know what?  Just hide your whole face.
Kneel down, stand up, cross yourself, repeat after me, say it again, say it again, one more time, say it again.
Eat this dry cracker.
Now return to your pew and continue with your dozing off.

Who made these rules anyway?  (Men.)  But seriously, who?  (Old men.)  Really, though.  We judge others so harshly when they don't abide by the rules.  Meanwhile, the most important rules are often ignored - BE KIND, BE PATIENT, BE HONEST, BE HERE NOW.

Well.  Now that I have thought and pondered and assessed and analyzed the things we humans do and why we do the things we do, I have to go explain to my kids why they can't say "fart" in the classroom.    

Peace, love, gratitude,
V

p.s.

Share if you dare.

it's a party!

I get invitations for all kinds of things.  Holiday parties, charity functions, walks around the block, parent-teacher conferences, the white sale at Bloomie's...  I always consider the invitation and decide what needs to be done based on my calendar.  Can I do it?  Can I fit it?  Can I manage it?  And then, typically, I do whatever it is I need to do to make it work.  I call a sitter, pencil it in, find an outfit, arrange a carpool and hit the road.  That's the type of response that we would expect to give to an invitation.

You know, the universe works pretty much the same.  When we invite a thought, an event, a situation, a relationship into our lives, the universe responds just as we would to a proper invitation.  If the invitation makes sense, our spirity selves will pull strings in order to make things happen for us.  If it doesn't fit in our calendar, we will have to work a thousand times harder to make things happen on our own... or run out of days trying.

When we invite positivity into our lives, we will receive positivity into our lives.  Ask and we shall receive.  Really, all it takes is the ask.  All we have to do is be honest with ourselves, feel worthy of goodness in this lifetime, and imagine ourselves receiving.  RECEIVE.  I love that word.  All this is easier said, I know.  But it's true.

You want good in your life?  Ask for good.  Don't beg.  Don't plead.  Don't compare your good to your neighbor's good.  Don't get angry when it doesn't work out your way right away.  Be patient.  Keep asking.  Write your requests down.  Create a formal invitation addressed to all the good things you want to accomplish, to the children with whom you want to have patience, to the success you want to find in your employment.  Go ahead, try it.  Okay, okay, I'll try first:

"Dear Universe, I invite you to bring flexibility into my life... specifically, into my hamstrings.  I invite you to help me find inspiration in my writing so I can connect with and help others.  I invite you to bless my family with health and kindness.  I invite you to bring my new baby niece home from Honduras this month."

(Saved the best for last. ;-)

That's all it takes.  The universe is eager to receive your invitations and will provide you with exactly what you need.  Because the universe is working for you.  The universe is constantly catching you and tripping you, holding you up and pushing you ahead in order to get you exactly what you need in every minute.  The universe wants you to learn and heal and love and feel.  Elevate.

But, hey.  You want bad?  You can get that, too.  Burying yourself in gossip and materialism, greed and anger, jealousy and obsessive thoughts will get you loads of bad.  And maybe all that bad is what your are meant to receive.  Maybe that bad is your karmic payback.  Maybe you just need to stew in that bad for awhile so the universe will keep on sending you bad.

UNTIL.

Until, until, until, you start INVITING THE GOOD.  Because when you are READY to invite the good, the universe will sigh relief.  THANK GOD SHE FINALLY ASKED ME FOR SOME GOOD!

But if you don't invite the good, ask for the good, expect the good - the good won't come.  You might get  bitty flashes of the good.  The good might poke it's shiny head out and say, "Hey hey!  I'm here!  I'll tickle your belly, give you a laugh, but then I've got to motor b/c you're not quite ready for me yet.  When you invite me formally I'll be here for you b/c I love you.  I do.  But until then, I remain a whisper."

It's really up to you.  Invite the good.  Invite the bad.  It's all the same to the universe.  But is it all the same to you?

Peace, love, gratitude,
v

p.s.
If you enjoyed this blog, I invite you to share it.  Thank you.  :-)

STOP THE INSANTIY!!!!!!!!!

i felt mildly accosted one day last fall by a sweet little 7 year old.  it happened at the end of my daughter's birthday party.  i'd just spent hundreds of dollars on cake and dinner and activities for my daughter's "most favoritest" small people in the whole wide world.  at the end of the celebration, the kids were loading into their cars to go home, and one of the little girls politely demanded her favor, hands wide open, eyes wide open and trained on my face.  "oh.  well.  i don't have any favors."  her expression said it all, but she continued with, "really?  we always get favors after parties."  i've gotta say, i was a little shocked.  and don't get me wrong - this is a good kid.  this child was seriously confused and surprised - and to tell you the truth, so was i.

stuff stuff stuff stuff stuff stuff stuff stuff stuff stuff stuff stuff stuff stuff stuff.  stuff.

stuff.  do we seriously need to provide plastic bags full of plastic stuff and fake food wrapped in plastic IN ADDITION TO the mounds of pizza and cake and crafts and entertainment we just provided for our tiny little children?   i'm not sure a company like "oriental trading post" even needs to exist.  but somehow it does, and somehow we party-throwers cannot help but litter them with purchase orders for plastic magenta hula skirts and blinking yellow necklaces and glitter-covered beer mugs and turquoise rubber duckies and orange kazoos and black chattering vampire teeth and...  (i'm going to channel susan powers for a minute) "STOP THE INSANITY!!!!!!!"

can we please stop??????  all of us?  me, too!  let's stop!  okay?  we don't have to buy this stupid shit!  let's shop and plan mindfully.  the kids only play with it for 2 hours before it breaks and ends up in the trash anyway.  let's just stop.  because it's not just about the short-term waste.  it's also about the long-term results.

are we, as parents, creating little monsters?  yes.  are we programming our kids to have unreasonable expectations?  absolutely.  and, more importantly, in order to meet these expectations, are we endangering our children?  i mean, spoiling them - yes, that's for sure.  but also endangering them?  YES!  all of these pointless trinkets end up somewhere.  and it ain't in my compost bin.

this message is going to anger many party planners, and it's going to offend a lot of mommies, and it's going to disappoint a lot of children, but listen.  as said by the great chief seathl in his letter to franklin pierce in 1854, "Continue to contaminate your bed, and you will one night suffocate in your own waste."  all of that plastic shit is going to end up in a landfill.  all of those candy wrappers are heading into that landfill, too.  our unmindful purchases are only creating a more complicated world for the very children we are trying so hard to please.  and guess what?  it doesn't have to be like that.

i challenge you, as a mommy or a daddy, to say, "fuck it.  i'm not doing it this year."  because when you say, "fuck it," another mommy or daddy can say, "fuck it."  and then before you know it, when our children attend a birthday party, they can do this:  CELEBRATE.  PERIOD.

i'm happy to be the first bad mommy who does not give party favors.  i'm also happy to be the first bad mommy who does not give birthday presents.  i'll take the dirty looks and the judgment and the criticism.  because in the end, i know it's not so bad.  it's actually really really REALLY good.

when my children are invited to parties, they will not show up with games or toys or bead kits.  unless granted special permission, they will show up with smiles and experiences.  they will show up with little hand-written cards inviting the birthday girl or boy to a day at the park or a trip to a museum.  b/c there's just too much stuff stuff stuff stuff stuff stuff stuff.  stuff.

peace, love, gratitude,
v

p.s.
if you are tired of the pressure to give party favors, please share this blog.  xoxoxoxox

life set to music

It took me a long time to engage in spirituality.  For 30 years or so, there was just a big question mark hovering over my head regarding eternal life.  I always thought spirituality was found in church, but now I know that religion doesn't encompass spirituality.  God is too big to fit in a church.  Christianity doesn't own Jesus.  Islam doesn't corner the market on Allah.  Buddhism doesn't hold the only key to Enlightenment.  God is found everywhere - in me, in you...  and, as will be expanded upon in today's post, in music.  


Now that I am aware of the existence of GOD and ENERGY and SPIRIT, I notice these things everywhere and in everything, especially music - from Indigo Girls to Katy Perry.  Has God always been there?  Waiting for me to wake up and pay attention?  Of course, right?  I don't know how, but during the course of my first 30 years, somehow I missed God's existence - not just in music but in everything.  Blew right by me.


I missed the one *thing* that is every *thing*.  While I was sleep walking, millions of other people knew about, were singing at the tops of their lungs about, that *thing*.  For all these years, millions have been infusing that *thing* into every *thing*.  


Does a fish know he's swimming water just b/c he's surrounded by it?  Evidently not.

***********

My cousin MB posted a Cat Stevens video on her Facebook page a couple of weeks ago - a tribute to her Dad.  As it turns out, it was a tribute to my Pop as well.  The song was "If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out".  We, as a family, have been singing this song since we were little hippie kids.  


I remember being 4 years old, belting out Cat songs by the campfire on Saco River in New Hampshire...  Our hairy-faced fathers strumming their guitars, playing their harmonicas and singing without inhibition while our five little girl faces (cousins and sisters) lit up with joy and contentment.  And I also remember being 11 years old, Pop conjuring another Cat song called "On the Road to Find Out" in attempt to explain to me why he had to leave his family.  These songs have been with me all my life.  (With us all of our lives, right girls?)  


As a child I thought "Sing Out" was about happy people singing and dancing.  As a teenager, I didn't care what the song was about.  As a twenty-something I thought the song was about finding your voice.  But now I really get it.  Cat's singing about the very ideas that my gurus like Eckhart Tolle, Deepak Chopra and Wayne Dyer tout now.  He's singing about creating and creation, about accepting and acceptance, about free will and synchrodestiny.  

Well, if you want to sing out, sing out
And if you want to be free, be free
'Cause there's a million things to be
You know that there are

And if you want to live high, live high
And if you want to live low, live low
'Cause there's a million ways to go
You know that there are

You can do what you want
The opportunity's on
And if you can find a new way
You can do it today
You can make it all true
And you can make it undo
you see ah ah ah
its easy ah ah ah
You only need to know

Well if you want to say yes, say yes
And if you want to say no, say no
'Cause there's a million ways to go
You know that there are

And if you want to be me, be me
And if you want to be you, be you
'Cause there's a million things to do
You know that there are

You can do what you want
The opportunity's on
And if you can find a new way
You can do it today
You can make it all true
And you can make it undo
you see ah ah ah
its easy ah ah ah
You only need to know

Well, if you want to sing out, sing out
And if you want to be free, be free
'Cause there's a million things to be
You know that there are
You know that there are
You know that there are
You know that there are
You know that there are 


And then there's "Road to Find Out".  Well, honestly, I think even as an 11 year old I understood the general meaning of this one.  The difference now is that my feelings about it are no longer connected to rejection and abandonment.  When I hear this song, I think about Cat's journey as a seeker, much like my own.  I think about the years I've spent traveling and growing and birthing and reading and listening and watching and absorbing in hopes to find that answer, that connection to peace and spirit... finally discovering that the answer has always been right here - waiting to be found.  The answer is neatly wrapped up in a little package labeled "Vanessa".  "The answer lies within."  Yup.  That's about right.  

Well I left my happy home
to see what I could find out
I left my folk and friends
with the aim to clear my mind out

Well I hit the rowdy road
and many kinds I met there
and many stories told me on the way to get there

So on and on I go, the seconds tick the time out
So much left to know, and I'm on the road to find out

In the end I'll know
but on the way I wonder
through descending snow
and through the frost and thunder

I listen to the wind come howl
telling me I have to hurry
I listen to the robin's song
saying not to worry

So on, and on I go, the seconds tick the time out
So much left to know, and I'm on the road to find out

Well I found myself alone
hoping someone would miss me
Thinking about my home and the last woman to kiss me

Well sometimes you have to moan
when nothing seems to suit you
but never the less you know
your locked towards the future

So off and on you go, the seconds tick the time out
There's so much left to know and I'm on the road to find out

And I found my head one day
when I wasn't even trying
and here I have to say
cause there is no use in lying, lying

Yes the answer lies within
so why not take a look now
Kick out the devils sin
pickup, pickup a good book now

Yes the answer lies within
so why not take a look now
kick out the devils sin
pickup, pickup a good book now

Yes the answer lies within
so why not take a look now
kick out the devils sin
pickup, pickup a good book now 

***********

When music is interpreted from the perspective of a seeker, we connect to the artist in a truly intimate way.  We say, "I get you.  I understand where you are coming from and where you are going.  I know your struggle.  Because I'm seeking, too.  We are all suffering and struggling in the same way through our different human experiences.  And I am grateful for your artistic expression." 


So Yusuf Islam, aka Cat Stevens, I am grateful to you for lighting up the road of my own spiritual journey.  Even when I didn't know I was walking it.


Peace, Love, Gratitude,
V


p.s.
A lifetime of thanks Uncle Angie and Pop, for always bringing your guitars and your songs.  I think if you two were around today, you'd look and sound and feel something like this:

p.p.s.  If you like this blog, please share it.  :-)

daily om answers the call

ummmmmm...  i'm thinking madisyn taylor must have read my selfhelpitis blog.  i mean, what are the odds?  ;-)
peace,
v


posted by "DailyOM" yesterday:

June 1, 2012
Recognizing Happiness
Analyzing the Path
by Madisyn Taylor



When we take the time to recognize when we are happy and what that feels like, it becomes easier to recreate.

Those of us on the path of personal and spiritual growth have a tendency to analyze our unhappiness in order to find the causes and make improvements. But it is just as important, if not more so, to analyze our happiness. Since we have the ability to rise above and observe our emotions, we can recognize when we are feeling joyful and content. Then we can harness the power of the moment by savoring our feelings and taking time to be grateful for them.

Recognition is the first step in creating change, therefore recognizing what it feels like to be happy is the first step toward sustaining happiness in our lives. We can examine how joy feels in our bodies and what thoughts run through our minds in times of bliss. Without diminishing its power, we can retrace our steps to discover what may have put us in this frame of mind, and then we can take note of the choices we‚ve made while there. We might realize that we are generally more giving and forgiving when there‚s a smile on our face, or that we are more likely to laugh off small annoyances and the actions of others when they don‚t resonate with our light mood.

Once we know what it feels like and can identify some of the triggers and are aware of our actions, we can recreate that happiness when we are feeling low. Knowing that like attracts like, we can pull ourselves out of a blue mood by focusing on joy. We might find that forcing ourselves to be giving and forgiving, even when it doesn‚t seem to come naturally, helps us to reconnect with the joy that usually precedes it. If we can identify a song, a picture, or a pet as a happiness trigger, we can use them as tools to recapture joy if we are having trouble finding it. By focusing our energy on analyzing happiness and all that it encompasses, we feed, nurture, and attract more of it into our lives, eventually making a habit of happiness.

the odds are ever in your favor

SG and XG finished school yesterday so summer vacation has officially begun.  XG (my 3 1/2 year old) celebrated his liberation with a rowdy bender - party for one - in his bedroom until 11:00 last night.  i found him this morning, strewn face down in his bed at 8:35 with all the lights on, drool oozing from his tiny red mouth, an empty cup of milk turned sideways on the floor, legos and matchbox cars sprayed all over his sheets, hand still tightly clutching a small dinosaur he calls "toothless".

while XG was sleeping it off, SG and i sat down to a few rounds of early morning cards.  we played war, go-fish and crowd-favorite crazy 8's.

i typically do the shuffling and dealing b/c SG tends to stack the decks.  (she's only 5, so cheating is in her wheelhouse.)  i SWEAR i was on the up and up when i dealt myself this hand (pictured above) during game #3 of go-fish.  (why can't i get a hand like this during the annual poker tourney in maine with the in-laws????)  anyway.  first thing i thought:  "what are the odds???"

then i peered over the top of my cards and saw my little boo.  what are the odds that i end up with this terrifically sassy little kid?  for that matter, what are the odds that half the shit in my life ended up the way it did?  and then i remembered - life isn't about odds, life isn't about coincidence or luck.

life is about potential - at any given time, your hand looks exactly the way it's supposed to look.  it's all meant to be.  this life is designed for you.  yup, for you.  just you.  every person you see, every thing you do, every struggle you encounter, every card you are dealt...  all for you.   all on purpose.   you are important.  you matter.

what you do with your hand is your choice.  so why not live it fearlessly?  after all, the odds are ever in your favor.

peace, love, gratitude,
v

what do you see?

What are we doing, fellow house fraus?  And non-house fraus, too, of course.  This message applies to all but I'm a house frau, so I am especially addressing my own breed of breeders.  Ummmm...  where were we?  Yes.  What are we doing?  Are we living our own lives?  Or are we chasing someone else’s?  Shout, “amen,” if you’re with me.  Go ahead.  Holler it right now, while sitting at your computer, while lying in your bed, while stirring your bernaise sauce at the stove.  Can I hear an, “amen,” if you have lost sight of your own priorities b/c you are unknowingly spinning your wheels, trying to keep up with your neighbor’s definition of a *good* life.  

What is a *good* life afterall?  Who defines it?  Our spouses?  Our kids?  Our bosses?  Our parents?  Our BFFs?  Or...  wait for it...  IS IT US?  Are we supposed to define our own *good* lives?  Shit, if that’s the case, there’s a lot of pressure on each of us to figure out what *good* means, what *good* is and what *good* does.  Or maybe there is no pressure.  Maybe there is just contemplation...

Contemplation is something that we don’t spend much time doing.  Quiet contemplation.  Listening to the crickets (KF ;-), watching the clouds blow by, focusing on one thing at a time, slowing down the pace of our lives so we can live mindfully - so we can live *on purpose* and *with intention*.   

When we live intentionally, we can only live a *good* life.  Because otherwise we are intentionally living a bad life - and who does anything bad with intention?  Makes no sense, right?

So it’s not secret, I had a total effing meltdown last week.  The meltdown took place mostly in my head.  On the outside I may have appeared serene, but my insides were an aluminum pan of hot meat lasagna flipped upside down and splattered on the kitchen floor.  This is not what one expects after 3 weeks of devoted meditation and inner peace.  But life is always changing and we are always learning.  So I gave into the mental tantrum for a spell, just to see where it would take me.   

By giving in, I mean I spent an afternoon hashing out a thousand mixed up feelings while cleaning out my office.   I unloaded on a few dear friends who were willing to lovingly tolerate my crazies and even compassionately commiserate by sharing their own.  I ate a ton of sugary food.  And committed to a 2 day tennis moratorium.  (I mean, who do I think I am?  Boris Bloody Becker?)  When I felt all sorted out, I consciously turned the mental station to healthy food, kids and laughter (hence the hours spent watching Ben Aaron and weird pics on my Facebook page - nothing gets me a cheap laugh like Photo Booth).  

Finally, I crawled into bed early and re-read “Peace is Every Breath”.  This is what made me stop:  

“Contemplating aimlessness helps us stop feeling compelled to go around seeking after this and that, exhausting ourselves mentally and physically.  Aimlessness means not chasing after anything, not setting any more objects in front of ourselves to run after.  Happiness is available right in this present moment.  We are already what we want to become...

“Everywhere you turn, life is full of wonders.  The Kingdom of God, the Pure Land of Buddha, is already right there, within and all around us; and the same is true of happiness.  Contemplating aimlessness helps us be able to stop our rushing around and experience a sense of contentment and joy.”  

There are so many ways to interpret and apply this idea.  But since I am a housewife in the suburbs, I naturally apply this to such.   And here is my tiny shift...

We are who we are.  We cannot be EVERYTHING.  Each of us has special talents, special characteristics that are unique to us.  And it is in these specialties, these God-given gifts, that we can find contentment.   

I have friends and family who are extraordinary cooks, athletes, intellectuals, parents, gardeners, listeners, socialites, performers...  and it is my job as a friend or family member to cheer my loudest for them.  It is my job to support these people.  It is my job to give these loved ones lots of space so their lights can shine as bright as they possibly can.  

It is NOT my job to try to beat them at their own game.  It is NOT my job to wish I were as *good* as them.  It is NOT my job to stress out b/c I’ll never be able to achieve what they are achieving.  It is NOT my job to do these things b/c I AM NOT THEM.  I AM ME.  I am this totally different person with God-given gifts of my own.  It is my job to stop exhausting myself by seeking something that is not in my natural design.  It is my heavenly duty to let my own gifts shine and to be content with the gifts with which God blessed me...  and NOT chase after someone else’s *good* life.  

For a moment, let’s erase the world around us.  Let us sit still and contemplate the magnificent world within.  Slow down your mind for a minute.  Tune in, read a little slower and answer these questions (and I’m answering in my head, too):  

What do you see?  

What does this life hold for you?  

Can you be YOUR best self?  

Can you allow others to be their best selves?  

Can you treasure loved ones without jealousy or desire or anger - but with acceptance? 

Can you accept that their bodies and their personalities are designed by God with *intention* and *goodness*?  

What would happen if you could be grateful for the gifts that God gave you?  

What would happen if you could deem yourself worthy of *goodness* just b/c you were born?  

How would your life change if you could accept yourself just the way you are?

Let’s free ourselves of the pressure to be just like everyone else.  Let’s express ourselves uniquely.  Let’s support each other - really support each other.  We tell our kids all the time to be kind.  Now let us be kind.  Be kind to each other and to ourselves.   Let’s change our world through mindful living.  And let's make it a priority.

It all starts with you, with me.  

Peace, love, gratitude,

V


p.s.
Please help my light shine its brightest - share this blog with friends if you like it!  xoxoxox

i've got self-helpitis la la la la la la laaaaaa

i'm suffering from self-helpitis.  while i'm not sure self-helpitis has actually been qualified as a psychological condition, i'm thinking it should be.  i'm experiencing intense symptoms which have led me to this diagnosis.

it all began four years ago when i opened my first metaphysical book.  since then, i've read a thousand books, articles, blogs, watched countless you tube meditations and attended seminars whenever i can.  and i've loved it.  chopra, napthali, taylor, weiss, HH, peele, tolle, coehlo, bailey, dyer, hanh, virtue, moody...  i've studied and admired them all - and dozens more.

after being so consumed with helping-my-Self, i've finally reached the point of overload.  there are just so many goddam things to work on... so many humanisms to accept, so many moments to capture, so many plastic bottles to recycle, so many habits to resolve, so many breaths to take, so many big ideas to comprehend, so many meals to cook from scratch, so many yoga poses to practice, so many children who require patience, so many meditations to explore, so many past lives to uncover, so many journal entries to write, so many wrongs to right, so many so many so many so many SO MANY!!!!!!!!!!!!

AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!  FFFUUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

is this strange?  am i crazy?  has anyone else out there survived self-helpitis?  what do you do when you know what you have to do but just can't find the mental discipline to do it all?

it's as if i have changed and am changing so many things about my life and within my life that, in my search for balance, i'm about to flip over the backside of the rocker.  b/c no matter what i do to change, i'm still this ego-driven human being, schlepping around the burdens of earthly life.

when we are mindful, we constantly encounter what i call "tiny shifts" - little realizations that may seem insignificant or obvious, but when experienced in just the right way, at just the right time, provide us with a slight shift in perspective and forever change the way we view ourselves in the world.  these tiny shifts have brought me to what feels like a tipping point.

while tipping, my internal pendulum is swinging wildly and frantically from all of these tiny shifts.  i'm trying to objectively observe, trying to wait patiently for that pendulum to settle into a peaceful, rhythmic tic-toc.  but it's hard.  so hard.

i understand so much and know what needs to be done but actually doing it is incredibly difficult.  recently, i've been falling back into various old routines that i had once confidently abandoned.  it's as if, when i'm working hard on *that one thing*, committing my entirety to *that one thing*, my abandoned sub personalities creep back to the surface of my psyche and start messing with my life.  they think i'm not paying attention and start acting up.  those little bastards.

i can only assume that this is normal.  but honestly, it's tough to function like a normal person when your ego and your higher self are at war with each other.

shit.

peace.  yah, yah.  love and gratitude, too.
v

p.s.
gold star to anyone who picked up on the papa gino's reference in the title.

meditation summary

turn the channel

read this quote by robert thurman in a book called "BE THE CHANGE, How Meditation Can Transform You and the World" today.

"Meditation is a neutral and very powerful tool.  The choice is what are we going to meditate on?  Most people let themselves be guided by a culture that this trying to make them buy things or make them afraid through the news.  When we watch television and we see a commercial, it is like a guided meditation on dissatisfaction.  We have to guide our meditation in a positive direction.  We do this when we meditate on freedom, on penetrating to the deep nature of reality.  In other words, if we meditate on being egotistical, we will become more egotistical, but if we meditate on being selfless, we will become more caring and altruistic.  When we experience ourselves as totally integrated with everyone, we are naturally going to be compassionate and kind to them."

i never really thought of tube time as meditation, but after reading these words i can see how this is so true.  so often, we sit in front of the television and vegetate.  vegetating is meditating, right?  so whatever is streaming into our consciousness is going to marinate for as long as we sit on the couch with the tube on.  and then it becomes a part of us.  this is scary.  and so powerful.  advertisers are changing who we are on a cellular level through commercials.  seriously.  this is true.  and this is CRAZY.  it's like brainwashing.  no wonder why every kid i see has a friggin pillow pet.  that commercial must run a hundred times a day.  they almost have no choice but to put the thing on their christmas lists.

i just had a conversation with my daughter's montessori teacher yesterday about how different children are these days.  how much bolder they are with adults.  how quick they are to inflict an abrasive comment on their teachers.  there is little doubt, for me, that the kids learn this snarky behavior from TV.  the way children act on "family" sitcoms is atrocious.  the characters are rude to their parents, they are rude to their neighbors, they are rude to other children's parents.  (i'm thinking of shows specifically on disney and nick - "iCarly" and "Good Luck Charlie" such.)  whether we choose to believe it or not, the fact is, our children are modeling their own behavior after these characters.  they think that these actors are cool.  and they think that the behavior of these characters is...  wait for it...  NORMAL.  scary.

and then, of course, is the programming that is pouring into that wide open channel in our adult brains while meditating in front of the TV.  through most news media and dramatic programming we are being programmed to fear.  notice how the tense of the verb changes.  we are no longer actively making a decision about how our brains are functioning, the television producers are making decisions for us.  we ARE BEING programmed.  not to get all big brother on you, but, well, it's sort of like big brother.  right?

last year, i banned all real housewives and most news programming from my house.  this was a big decision for me.  i reaaaallllllyyyyy loved my housewives.  BUT.  while watching the new york housewives reunion on bravo, my husband walked into the room and sat down on the couch.  the women on TV were verbally slaying  each other and hubby goes, "oh, v, my jaw is getting tight just listening to this."  and then i scanned my own body.  my chest was tight and i had a big lump in my throat.  i turned it off and walked away for good.  and then i noticed the physical reactions i had while watching other programming.  intense.  i encourage readers to do a physical scan while you watch TV.  it's madness.  so now i limit my TV intake to programming that lifts me up or educates me.

my kids love TV.  i usually let them watch PBS, discovery (they love "river monsters") and some nick jr.  but as of today i'm pulling in the reins.  (oh, god, please give me the strength to do this.)  if they are going to do something as powerful as meditate on an idea for 30 minutes, it's sure as shit not going to be what some dude at disney wants for my kids.

meditation is a powerful tool.  maybe THE MOST powerful tool.  time to turn the channel.

peace, love, gratitude,
v

metaphor for life

i went to yoga this morning with intention to dedicate my practice to allergy relief but my spirit had a different plan.  we always get what we need.  thank you, spirity v!

peace, love and gratitude!
xoxoxoxv

a reflection on motherhood for mother's day

Me with PG as she takes her first breath

It's a beautiful Sunday in May - Mother's Day.  A day to take a mindful **pause** and honor mothers everywhere.  While I honor my Mom, my kids honor me - I'm a gratitude sandwich today and it's nothing short of lovely.  Today I want to reflect on the gratitude in all forms - not just sunny smiling days filled with hugs and kisses - I mean the good and the... ummm...  crappy.  (If you're thinking this is a dirty diaper reference, you're dead on.)

Mom, I am grateful that you toted a car load of 12 year olds to see George Michael in 1987.  You understood that tweenagers don't want to hang with a Mom at a concert.  You danced on the lawn at Great Woods by yourself while we kids jumped up and down screaming, "I WANT YOUR SEX!!!!!"  I remember glancing back at you at one point during the show, seeing you there alone in the crowd.  I felt bad but didn't know how to do anything different.  So I turned back around and continued the worship-fest with my big-haired, blue-eyeliner-wearing girlfriends.  (Come to think of it, maybe YOU were embarrassed to be seen with US.)

Thank you for letting us be 12.  Thank you for understanding our insecurities and our self-centeredness.  Thank you for not letting me buy that black t-shirt that read "I WANT YOUR SEX" across the chest.  I know I was pissed at you at the time and I probably ignored you for the entire car ride home.  Now that I'm a mother I understand how totally inappropriate it would have been to let your 7th grader wear that.   Thank you for protecting me.  I'll do the same for my kids.  Promise.

Mom, I am grateful for all the years you worked as a nurse, supporting us three girls all by yourself.  I can't imagine how scary, lonely and difficult that time must have been for you.  And I'm sorry for all of the times I cried to you at the mall entrance of The Limited b/c I wanted another Forenza sweater when you couldn't afford one more stitch.  I see now.  I see that you were doing your best, maxing out your credit cards, burning at both ends trying to give us what we needed and sacrificing to keep us in our house.  I get it.  And I'm grateful for your hard work.  And I'm grateful that you never threw Pop under the bus.  I never knew he was a deadbeat-dad until I was an adult.  You wanted us to believe that our father was good - and we were good.  You waited until I was an adult before sharing the whole truth and I am grateful for the years of being blissfully unaware.  Children do not need to know dirty details of divorce.  It only hurts the children.  And you knew this innately.  Thank you for a relatively innocent childhood.

Mom, I am grateful for the life lessons - for filling our home with animals to love and gardens to explore, for marrying a step-dad who is the best dad a girl could ask for, for taking me in after I flunked out of Bentley, for being the first person in line at the delivery room door when I had each of my babies, for cooking gourmet dinners while I chased my kids around, for treating my husband like a son (even though he's practically your age - haha), for treating me like your little girl - even though I'm 36 years old.

CG, PG and SG, every day is Children's Day.  I love you all so deeply and dearly that I cry when I think about the joy you have brought into my life.  I left out your brother in this letter for a reason.  There's no chance he'll ever be a mother.  But in time, it is possible that you three will join the ranks.  This being Mother's Day and all, I want to share the gratitude I feel toward you for making me a mommy.

CG, your light shines so bright.  You were 8 when we met.  You were turning cartwheels on a softball field and stopped long enough to greet me with a big smile.  On the day I became your step-mother, we were about to walk to the ceremony and you started crying.  I felt deflated, worried that you didn't want me to be in your life or maybe that you were sad to have to share your Dad with me.  When I asked you what was wrong you said, "I really wanted my hair to be curly."  I sighed relief and plugged in my hot rollers.  We were 30 minutes late for the wedding, but your hair looked adorable and you bounced down that aisle with a beautiful smile on your face...  and I did, too.  I am grateful that I'm your step-mother, that you accept me and my crazies, that you forgive me for my mistakes, that you like the clothes I pick out for you at Christmas, that you let me be your friend.  Step-mothering is a funny thing.  You never quite know what your role is and you never quite know if you'll get in trouble for doing what you're doing.  But, man, you've made it joyful.  I have grown wiser through our relationship.  I've learned so many lessons from you - the best of which is learning to love a child like she is your own.

PG & SG, my gratitude for you exists in giving and in sacrifice.  Through giving, I have learned wonderful lessons in life and love.  You each arrived on sunny Sundays, coincidently both in Room 14 at BI.  I've loved you from your first breaths...  actually even before that...  from the first wave of nausea I felt in week 3 of pregnancy.  Listen up, girls.  Pregnancy is a trip.  The things that will happen to your body over 10 months of incubation are nothing short of miraculous...  and disgusting.  If you are anything like me, you'll puke for the first three months.  During this time food is the last thing you'll want, but eat.  Please eat.  B/c not eating will only make you sicker.  Take your pre-natals.  Put your feet up.  Listen to Mozart.  Get bikini waxes or don't - no one cares.  Take long walks.  Have sex.  Play sports.  Stay away from mean people.  Use lotion but don't expect it to save you from stretch marks - let's hope you take after me in that department.  Sleep all day.  Take pictures of yourself.  Let old ladies rub your belly in the grocery store.  Enjoy your big perky boobs and your thick head of hair - b/c soon your boobs will be hard as rocks, leaking milk, and your hair will be falling out in clumps in the shower.   Do all these things and try to feel grateful, even when you are totally uncomfortable, pelvis cracked in half, hobbling down the cookie aisle at 39 weeks.

When the contractions come you will not believe it's time.  You'll say, "Oh, I just have a bit of diarrhea.  Oh, it's another Braxton-Hicks.  Oh, but the pain is in my back.  Oh, this can't be the time - I'm not due until Tuesday."  Listen to me.  Get out that stop-watch.  When you are five and one, get your ass to the hospital b/c your Momma went FAST.  And you probably will, too.  And girls.  Have those babies naturally.  No drugs.  You don't need them.  Our bodies are made to do this.  Girls, believe me, you can do it.  The pain is enormous, but so is the joy that results.  When those contractions wash over you, remember it is just a sign that your baby is coming.  And when you don't think you can take another nanosecond, have the nurse check you.  I'd bet my boots it's time to push.  Push through the pain.  Be grateful for the pain.  Sacrifice your comfort for the health of your children.  You will evolve through the pain.  You will grow strong through the pain.  The pain will remind you that you are alive.

Breastfeed, breastfeed, breastfeed for as long as you can.  Aim for one year.  When you know your milk is drying up, take your baby into a quiet room and watch her face as she's suckling for the last time.  I remember doing this with all three of you and the memory is so precious to me.  Then say goodbye to your boobs and hello to a pair of fried eggs with stiff nipples.

Invest in pantyliners in preparation of lifetime of piddling.  You laugh, you sneeze, you jump, you dance, you cough...  you pee.  Yup.  Some of the physical effects of childbearing are sucky.  I'm not sure how to find gratitude in saggy tits and wet undies, but I'm sure it exists in there somewhere.

Spontaneous urination aside, there are so many other things I want to tell you about, things I want to encourage you to do and find gratitude in doing.  Like take your babies to movies and restaurants when they're tiny.  Travel with them - they're not too young to appreciate an adventure.  Let them crawl in your bed when they have nightmares.  Don't let them eat sugar.  Teach them about God.  Find a good babysitter - you shouldn't have to do this alone.  Show them how to Love.  Value their education.  Punish them when they're naughty.  Show them how to love this planet.  Let them sit on your lap - even when they're too big to fit.  Greet them with a smile, even if they're just coming out of the bathroom.  Shower them with Love, not toys.  Let them wear whatever they want to kindergarten, even if it hurts your eyes.  Tell them their Energy is powerful.  Kiss your husband in front of them.  Tell them they're good.  When you want to scream, whisper.  Dance and sing with them.  Create a community of adults they can trust.  Laugh at their weird jokes.  If they make their own bed, don't remake it after they leave for school.  Don't match their emotion - stay cool, be the rock they need you to be.  Teach them to meditate.  Ask them what they think about and listen to what they say.  Remember that they are souls - quite possibly more evolved than you.  Respect their journeys.  When in doubt, Breathe.  Be thankful for the ride of a lifetime.

I hope that someday you girls will be grateful for these pearls of motherly wisdom.  I hope you feel the gratitude I feel each day sharing my life's journey with you.  I hope someday your kids feel gratitude for your sacrifices and your efforts like I do for my Mom's.  We are all so very blessed.

Peace, love, and, of course, gratitude,
Vanessa / V / Mamma

rest assured

I had to dig through some of my old blogs to find something I wrote ages ago.  I was surprised (and a little embarrassed) to see some of the weird shit I'd shared.  Yikes.  And I was surprised to see how much funnier my blogs used to be.  Apologies for being so humorless since reprising the blog.  I don't know how to fix that, but I'll try.  ;-)  Anywho.  I wanted to find this blog and repost it b/c I had a big, fat break-through and wanted to share.  First, the backstory:

***********

As a child I was terrified of death.  TERRIFIED.  I was also afraid of the dark, as that’s when things that want to kill you come out - vampires, Jaws, wolves, aliens, the creeps in the Thriller video, and anyone appearing on “Unsolved Mysteries”.  I had nightmares all the time.  I clearly remember sneaking into Mom & Pop’s room in the wee hours, trying to guess which side of the mattress would welcome me in and which would send me back to my Holly Hobby-clad bed.  Sometimes when my nightmares woke me up, I’d stay paralyzed under the covers.  Too scared to run down the hall for help.  My big sister hovered inches above my head in the top bunk, but the long climb up the ladder would surely leave me vulnerable to the creatures lurking below.

Bedtime caused me quite a bit of anxiety.  My parents told me these hideous creatures did not exist and that I was safe.  But I never felt safe.  Nobody was able give me the security I needed.  Thinking back, I want to cry for that tiny frightened girl white knuckling her blankets all night.  It was sad to feel so alone and scared, even if the fear was completely irrational.

Happy to report, I’m not afraid of the dark anymore.  I find the dark quite peaceful now and would have a hard time sleeping with even a nightlight.  I kicked the darkness neurosis when I was 24 (this is abnormally old, I know).  I worked on a cruise ship called Maasdam and there were no portholes in my cabin.  My roommate and I worked crazy hours and caught zzzs whenever we could.  Since our cabin had no porthole, the room was often dark in the middle of the day and out of respect for one another we’d fumble around quietly with the lights off.  Midday darkness just doesn’t hold the scare factor that midnight darkness does.  You can’t be freaked out at noon.  It’s just not cool.  I also found that between total exhaustion, supreme drunkenness and rolling seas I could’ve sleepily spooned with the Boogie Man and been blissfully unaware.

The fear of death lingered much longer, but ended equally abruptly.  As quickly as it took to read the book “Life after Life” by Raymond A. Moody.  In it, Moody proves through recorded observations that people who have near death experiences (NDEs) report similar or near-identical stories.  Pulling away from the human bodies in spirit, traveling down the long tunnel, entering the loving light, feeling peaceful omniscience, reviewing their lives, seeing a crystal city, deciding they still have work to do on Earth and returning to physical lives.   You have to read the book to get the whole story.  Good stuff.  I’ll blog about it more later. 

The point is, I was afraid of the unknown.  Death.  But now I know death isn’t really death.  It’s a transition into love and light.  And love and light is pretty fabulous. 

There is so obviously something more.  Whether or not you subscribe to reincarnation, it’s hard to ignore thousands of people who report having the same NDE.  For me, in accepting the FACT that there is life after life, I overcame my deeply rooted fear of physical death.  In time, I also figured out why I was so afraid of it to begin with.  I think the answer is this:  I grew up without religion or open conversation about spirituality. 

Regardless of the practice, religion teaches children that heaven exists.  Religion looks those little munchkins in the eyes and tells them, without doubt, that they possess eternal spirit.  Religion provides answers to kids who have sooooo many questions.  And we all know a kid’s favorite question:  Why?  But why?  Yah, but WHY???????  I never had those answers as a child.  But now I think I have some. 

I don’t habitually take my kids to church, mosque or temple (though they are all lovely options), but I talk about God and this amazing Universe all day here in the home.  My house is my church - full of God’s energy.  I am very confident when I tell my children that we will always be together.  That we have shared countless lifetimes loving each other.  That sometimes I’m the Mommy, sometimes they are, sometimes we’re just friends.  But that we are always together, full of love and light.   

They listen, laughing and wondering with each other, “Who was I before?  Who will I be next?  I hope I’m a dolphin!  I hope I’m a bird!  Hahaha!”  And somehow, these are my kids.  Laughing at death.  Who would’ve guessed? 

Peace!

V

p.s.

I confess, to this day I still launch myself into the covers from half way across the bedroom.  That gnarly hand reaching out from below doesn’t stand a chance.    ;-)

***********

Okay, now the break-through.  You know how I told you that Corbie Mitleid read my Akashic Records?  Well, one of the personal issues that I wanted to address during the reading was the fact that I have lived all my life with this fear of being killed, slashed, chased, murdered, severed, eaten, whatever.  Gross.  Corbie introduced me to four of my soul's personalities and I found out I had several unappealing demises.  I spent about 3 days processing the feelings associated with this reading.  It was intense.  A good intensity.  

This is what happened next. My hubby went overseas for a week and I was here alone with the kids.  Typically when he travels, I lay in bed - burglar alarm on, gaze toward hallway, covers up to my chin, cell phone in hand with the numbers 911 punched in - mentally freaking out.  Every time the heater cracks, every time the window rattles, every time the dog rolls over, I am jerked out of sleep and lie there frozen in terror until the sun dawns.  It's fucking horrible.  

BUT!!!!!!!!!  Guess what????  That didn't happen last week.  

Instead I slept like a baby!  (I mean a normal baby, not my babies who didn't sleep through the night until they were actually toddlers.)  Oh, and I was challenged, too.  The kids had stomach bugs and were up puking for two nights - I was able to drag myself to their rooms, wash their hair, change their sheets, relocate them and immediately return to bed and pass out.  I did not even run fast past the windows or turn on all the lights or take a flying leap into the bed from across the room!  This is HUGE for me and I am TOTALLY convinced that Corbie's reading is the reason my fear has dissipated.  She was like, "Well, kid, you've been shot, slain, lynched and poisoned.  You're not going to go out that way again."  Can I just say this?  PPPHHHHHHEEEEEWWWWWWzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...................

xoxoxoxoxox

v